Elizabeth Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
by EmrysJones312
Summary: Elizabeth Potter; Sister, Daughter, Witch. A biological brother she can't remember. Seven adoptive siblings she couldn't live without. Her birth parents deceased. Her adoptive parents, as loving and caring as anyone could hope for. And now her blood brother was returning to her world. Her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be interesting make no mistake.
1. The Girl Who Waited

Disclaimer: I uploaded this story a long time ago, under an old user name, just in case you find the other one I haven't stolen it. I own nothing, except for Elizabeth Potter. The rest is all the GENIUS of J.K. Hope you enjoy, R&R. Cheers Chicks xx

Chapter One

The Girl Who Waited

The night was deathly quiet. Even the birds ceased their chirruping. The sky was a wash of purples and blues; clouds full of bruises. Each raindrop fell like a silent tear, as if the heavens themselves had been wounded by the recent tragedy.

From the silence a man appeared in front of the ruin that was once a beautiful family cottage; now the aftermath of a massacre, the like of which would unsettle even the strongest of minds. The man appeared so suddenly and silently that you would have thought he had just popped out of the ground. This man had been seen many times in the small village of Godric's Hollow. He was tall, thin and very old judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He wore long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His light, bright eyes were shimmering behind half-moon spectacles that were, almost, as famous as the man on whose, slightly crooked, nose they found a perch. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Everything from Albus' name to his boots would have been warmly welcomed by most of the inhabitants of Godric's Hollow. Staring up at the cottage he was unsure, given the state of it, whether it still be might referred to as such. The only thing Albus' mind could come up with to truly describe the horrors, which now affronted his eyes, was the remnants of a battlefield. Evil seemed to exude from every crevice; sadness in every raindrop, each of which seemed to miss Dumbledore no matter how heavy they fell, as if the man were holding an invisible umbrella. Dumbledore's immunity to the downpour made one thing clear; the droplet of water making tracks down his pale cheek, to vanish into the tangles of that silver beard, had nothing to do with the weather.

Enough, Dumbledore wasn't here to mourn, that could be left for another time; he came here to do a job. It was that thought that gave the old man the resolve to push open the creaking garden gate. He began to follow the gravel path to the front door which now hung perilously from a single hinge.

She had to be there. Hagrid had been certain that the only living thing left in the house was young Harry… Dumbledore paused. The thought of that poor little boy and everything that lay before him pulled at the old man's heartstrings. However, Harry was not his priority right now; he delegated that complication earlier that evening and would have to leave it be. Harry would be safe.

As he entered the hallway the gravity of what had happened there, but a day ago, became clear. It made Dumbledore sick to think of it. No more just bricks and mortar, this was pictures of smiling face, that once smiled back at him, burnt and charred. Scraps of Christmas wrapping paper littered the floor, Christmas was a whole two months away, Lily always was one for being prepared. The splinters of a toy broomstick lay scattered on the floor, a birthday present. All echoes of lives destroyed in nothing more than a flash of light and a word. Words; the most powerful weapon we possess, at least, that was the old man's opinion.

As he surveyed the madness around him it struck Albus that something seemed out of place. The entire hallway held evidence of a tragedy, except one door. One, pristine, white door; it stood out against the darkness almost blindingly, and it was clear to Dumbledore that this was not a natural phenomenon. No, whatever lay behind this door had been protected by powerful magic and at last Albus understood why Hagrid had been unable to find her. As he approached the door, which led to the cupboard-under-the-stairs, he began to hear a soft whimpering coming from within. The ghost of a smile made its way onto his thin lips. She was safe.

On opening the door a pair of big brown eyes greeted him. Staring back at him, tears threatening to spill; even though it looked as though she had already cried more than any child ever should. She could have been only one and staring up at him with eyes that said one thing, "I'm scared." The old man would have considered her a fool had she not been. With a gentle reassuring smile, the usual twinkle returning to his blue eyes, he picked up the child in her small bundle of blankets and with one last look at the horrors that surrounded him, he sighed, turned on his heel and with a pop he vanished.

He appeared only moments later outside a house. This was no ordinary house. It looked as though, at one point, it had been a large stone pig pen. However, extra rooms had been added here and there until it became several stories high and so crooked it could only have been held up by magic. Four or five chimneys were perched on top of a red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read 'The Burrow'. Albus looked down into the bundle of blankets; barely visible beneath a tuft of jet black hair was the baby girl, fast asleep. Dumbledore allowed himself a chuckle, most people vomited the first time they apparated, only James' daughter would choose it as a pleasant moment to get some sleep.

Dumbledore held the girl tighter in his arms and headed towards The Burrow. He laid the bundle gently on the doorstep. Taking a letter from his robes he tucked it in the blankets and returned to the spot where he stood, with the small girl in his arms, not moments ago. "Good Luck, Elizabeth Potter – until we meet again," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, was gone.

A breeze blew the ruffled hedges outside the burrow. Under the inky sky, with its twinkling stars looking down upon her, the small child slept on, one tiny hand clamped around the letter beside her. Not knowing she would be woken in a few hours by Mrs. Weasley's shocked scream, as she went to fetch the eggs from the chicken coop for breakfast. Not knowing that she would spend the next few weeks being oohed and aahed over by three of her six now adoptive brothers, whilst being poked by the youngest, him being only older than her by months. She dreamt on, oblivious to the fact that in that moment, all over the country people were raising their glasses in salute to her brother. Toasting in hushed voices, "To Harry Potter – The Boy Who Lived." She was the forgotten Potter but that was how it needed to be. Until, she was ready.


	2. Commotion At The Cauldron

Chapter 2

Commotion at the Cauldron

Ten years had passed since Mrs. Weasley had awoken to find a small child on her doorstep, and those years could be seen in the changes at the Burrow. The Burrow now held just eight occupants; two of its earlier inhabitants having grown up and flown the proverbial nest. The many photographs dotted around the house, no longer showed only red-haired boys and girls. A flash of jet black could be seen flying around on a toy broomstick, or celebrating her older brothers graduations.

The photos were undeniable evidence that this girl was not a biological part of the family. In all of them she found herself surrounded by red-headed, freckled faces. However, resemblance was where the division ended. Anyone who spent more than five minutes with the Weasley family would tell you, with no doubt whatsoever. Elizabeth was a Weasley. The morning's situation, only went to further this belief.

"MUM… THEY DID IT AGAIN! " Percy Weasley ran downstairs clutching his hair. No matter how he tried to hide it the gentle curls of pink kept seeping through his fingers, as if mocking him.

Mrs. Weasley took one look at her son and understood his predicament.

"FRED… GEORGE… ELIZABETH… DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT OR YOU WON'T LEAVE THIS HOUSE TILL THE SCHOOL TERM STARTS."

Three heads poked out from behind the banister; innocent faces staring back at the fuming Mrs. Weasley.

"Explain yourselves!" Molly said, wondering to herself what well-rehearsed excuse they would throw at her this time.

"Well, you see…" began Elizabeth, her expression that of a guilty puppy covered in toilet paper, attempting to communicate the words 'I didn't do anything.'

Fred continued, "Our dear brother here just happened to be telling us… "

"For the hundredth time," whispered George from beside her, making her swallow a laugh that had been threatening to erupt since the second they walked into the room.

"That now that he has been made, Perfect Prefect Percy," Fred continued their hastily produced script, "that he would have to be memorable and stand out to make head boy."

"So…" George picked up where his twin had left off. "We being the spiffingly helpful siblings we are…" Elizabeth and Fred stood in the background nodding furiously to reinforce this comment, "put our heads together to come up with an idea to really make him pop. This was the result. So really…"

"We were just trying to help." All three intoned, in unison; batting their eyelashes at their mother. Nobody in the trio had any illusion that Molly Weasley believed a single word her children had just told her, but that sure as hell didn't mean they weren't going to try.

Mrs. Weasley glared for another few moments; opened her mouth, realised she had no words, closed it again and with a resigned sigh, gave up. "Percy I will solve this problem in a moment. You three get yourselves ready and wake Ginny and Ron; your father is meeting us in Diagon Alley in an hour. "The trio didn't need telling twice; they had got away with no punishment. This was unheard of in the Weasley household.

Their joy was short lived, however, as Molly's dulcet tones rang through the Burrow. "Oh and dears, don't think we have finished here, I'll deal with you when I am not running around like a headless chicken." Damn.

Elizabeth reached the top of the stairs in time to hear Mrs. Weasley saying, "Now, come here Percy. We can't well go to Diagon Alley with you looking like a stick of candy floss, now, can we dear? " The trio all exchanged a loaded glance and instantly burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Percy would never live this down.

An hour and a half later, all the Weasley's and Elizabeth were standing in a buzzing Leaky Cauldron. Elizabeth had been here many times and she'd never seen such a commotion. What could have caused this level of excitement?

"Potter… that's right… he's back… Harry Potter… came in with Rubeus Hagrid not fifteen minutes ago… isn't it exciting." She overheard Dedalus Diggle explaining the taverns current state to her father, Arthur Weasley, as he twirled his trademark purple bowler hat, excitedly, in his hands. Within seconds the eyes of every red head in the room turned to her. All their faces portraying different emotions.

"Elizabeth, my dear, your brother is here." Molly approached the topic gently with the eleven year old girl. For a moment Elizabeth just stood there; every time she ever mentioned her true name, it had always been "Potter… as in Harry?" or "What happened to your brother. Do you know him? Will he return to us?" No matter what Elizabeth did, to everyone, other than the Weasley's, she'd always be Harry Potter's sister, never just Elizabeth.

The Weasley's continued to watch her, expectantly, and all of a sudden Elizabeth had the perfect words to convey how, in that moment, she truly felt. "Yes Mum, they are. Come on, Gred, Forge; things to see, places to do, people to go… follow me."

And with that the trio headed out to Diagon Alley, abandoning the rest of the Weasley's behind them in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. One thing the Weasley's had concluded, was it was her decision, all they needed to do was wait for her to make it. It was a sure thing that Elizabeth's stubborn streak would make her ignore the situation even more if they pushed her.

No, she would come to the right decision on her own; when she was ready.

Disclaimer

You all know how this works; full disclaimer on previous chapter.

Please review any constructive criticism is welcome. Hope you are enjoying Elizabeth's misadventures so far. In the next chapter school shopping and bumping into a few familiar faces. x


	3. Ollivanders

Chapter 3

Diagon Alley

The sun was shining on the usual, end of summer, hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. The snowy-white bricks of Gringotts' wizarding bank gleamed, as though mirroring the many jewels that were stored within its endless caverns. Elizabeth had been here more times than she could remember, yet the Gringotts' security goblin, in his uniform of scarlet and gold, still made her uneasy. If the goblin made a shiver run through her nerves, it was nothing in comparison to the warning emblazoned on the second set of entry doors to this grand building.

Enter stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn,

So if you seek beneath our floors,

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"You think it's true, they have a dragon down there?" Fred questioned in a tone of curiosity Elizabeth wasn't sure she liked. Rumours of a guard dragon at Gringotts had been circulating for generations, but had never been confirmed.

"Not sure I want to find out." Elizabeth replied. A small shrug of agreement passed between the two boys behind her. They may have been somewhat mischievous at times but neither of them had a death wish.

A pair of goblins bowed the trio through the silver doors into a vast marble hall. A hundred more goblins sat on high stools behind a long counter; scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales and examining precious stones through eyeglasses.

The trio approached the counter. "Hello," Elizabeth said to a free goblin, "I would like to make a withdrawal from my vault."

"I assume you have your key, Miss Potter?" the goblin said, uninterested in making their interaction last any longer than necessary.

Elizabeth had to wonder if this reflected the welcome her brother would receive when he visited, to be enlightened as to his share of the family fortune. She doubted it. In her imagination, even goblins stopped what they were doing to get a glance at the famous 'boy who lived.'

Having put herself in a bad mood, she almost threw the tiny, golden key at the goblin before her. A moment later, a hand was placed on either shoulder, Fred and George both looking down at her with comforting smiles. They were there for her, even if they didn't always know why. She could depend on them. They were her brothers.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a shrill voice. "Bogrod," she had almost forgotten about the goblin stood on the platform before her. "Take Miss Potter and her… friends to her vault will you."

Bogrod, another goblin, led the three of them through one of the many doors leading off the main hall. The door led into a narrow stone passageway, lit by flaming torches that lined the stone walls. There were miniature railway tracks laid on the floor which followed the passageway as it headed downwards in a steep slope.

Bogrod whistled and a small cart came hurtling towards them, all four climbed in and they were off. At first, they began to cruise through a maze of twisting passages. However, the speed of the cart seemed to keep rising and before they knew it everything around them became a blur.

By this point, Fred and George had begun hooting and yelling with excitement, like children who had just ridden a broom for the first time. Elizabeth just sat there rolling her eyes at them, although she allowed herself a slight grin at their antics. They always made her smile.

The cart stopped at last next to a tiny door in the passage wall. Bogrod unlocked the door, inside was what might be described as a small fortune. Fred and George barred her entry to the vault. They stared at the wealth within with wide eyes, both letting out an over-exaggerated, longing sigh. "For Merlin's sake you two, out of the way, that joke is really starting to get old."

Elizabeth filled a small bag of gold, silver and bronze pieces for herself and threw a bag each to Fred and George, who enveloped her in a suffocating hug. All three got back in the cart to head back up to Diagon Alley.

Another wild cart ride later, and a lot more whooping from Fred and George, all three found themselves back in the beautiful sunshine outside Gringotts.

"OK, so what do you need this year, Izzy" Fred asked. All three of them had decided it might be wise to start getting her school things before Mrs Weasley re-joined them. She was angry enough with them after that mornings events; they didn't want to give her a reason to make their punishment any worse.

Elizabeth reached inside her pocket, pulled out a folded up piece of parchment and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Uniform

First year students will require:

1\. Three plain sets of work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Set Books

All students should have a copy of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phillida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size two)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring if they desire an owl OR a cat OR a toad (Elizabeth missed the smile that passed between her brothers at this point.)

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

"Well, that's a lot of things to get, wouldn't you say Gred?" George said, sending a sly smile to his brother.

"Well I must say I agree with you there Georgie, sorry we can't help, dear sister, we have a few errands to run. Ollivander's is just over there, why don't you go get your wand and we'll meet up with you and everyone in a bit," and with that they were gone. Those two were up to something; something they didn't want her to know about; this could never end well.

Ollivanders was a narrow, shabby shop in a corner of Diagon Alley. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A tinkling bell rang somewhere within the cavernous shop as she stepped inside. It was only as she turned around, from closing the door behind her, that she realised she wasn't the only occupant of that deceivingly large establishment.

Stood against a backdrop of shelves piled to the ceiling with tiny narrow boxes, stood a boy who looked no older than herself. His pale, pointed face was now gazing in her direction with interest.

"Hogwarts too?" he asked, she replied with nothing but a single nod.

"Draco Malfoy," the boy said sticking his hand out for her to shake. Oh she knew, exactly, who this young man was. Within the wizarding world, there were families who thought they were better than others. Families from old wizarding lines and old money. The Malfoys were one of them. Arthur had warned her of this family; but she never had been good at taking advice, no matter how accurate it happened to be. She decided to give Draco the benefit of the doubt; but that didn't mean she wouldn't have a little fun with him first.

"Elizabeth. I'm sure I've heard that name before…. Malfoy… now what could it be?" She pretended to contemplate it for a few moments. "Ah, I remember now. You're the boy with a Death Eater for a father."

Draco's calm and collected mask fell. Death Eaters were followers of the darkest wizard ever to have lived; and even though he had appeared to have been vanquished, thanks to her darling brother, it was not a thing one brought up in everyday conversation. No matter how true it happened to be.

Draco began to lower his hand; but just before he put it down completely, Elizabeth grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. Draco looked at her, face a wash of shock and confusion. The Malfoy mask all but forgotten. "Don't worry, you can't choose the blood you were born with."

Before Draco could say anything, another man ambled into view. "Here you go, Mr Malfoy. Ten inches, Hawthorn, unicorn hair, reasonably pliant; treat it well." Mr Ollivander was an old, greying man; his wide pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom and dust of the shop; never once seeming to blink. "Ah! Miss Potter. I've been expecting you."

"Potter?" Draco said, clearly surprised by the recent piece of information. Unfortunately, for him, he was once again interrupted as a man appeared in the doorway, whose mere presence was foreboding. There was no doubt in her mind; the mirrored blonde locks, pale skin and cold, grey eyes. This was Lucius Malfoy.

"Come, Draco." With another subtle glance in her direction Draco followed his father out of the shop like a loyal puppy dog; leaving her and Mr Ollivander alone.

"Hmm…"Mr Ollivander murmured, eyes flickering between her and the closed door. "Well then Potter, let's begin shall we. Hold out your wand arm." Elizabeth held out her right arm as Mr. Ollivander climbed a ladder, pulling a number of boxes from the shelves as he went. Meanwhile, Ollivander's tape measure developed a mind of its own. Having measured different lengths of her wand arm, it was now measuring the distance between her left nostril and her belly button.

"That will do." He said and the tape measure fell to the floor. Elizabeth took this as a cue that she could now relax her arm, although she wasn't sure.

"Right Miss Potter, every wand here has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivanders wands are the same. Just as no two unicorns, phoenixes or dragons are the same. And obviously you will never get as good results with another wizard's wand." Elizabeth tried to make sense of the words she had just heard, but in her excitement addled brain they managed to leave not even the slightest trace of meaning.

"Right then, try this one. Beechwood and unicorn hair. Nice and flexible, just give it a wave." Elizabeth gripped the wand he handed her but as she went to give it a wave, the wand disappeared into thin air. Ollivander was stunned, "that's only the second time that's ever happened," he stated. "Don't worry dear. It'll turn up in a month or so. The last one presented itself to me whilst I was on the lavatory. " This developed a picture in Elizabeth's mind she feared she'd never be able to erase.

"In the meantime try this one. Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy." Elizabeth raised the wand, but before she had moved it, even an inch, mister Ollivander began to sprout a rather spectacular pink beard. The wand clattered to the floor as she dropped it, out of pure shock. As she did so, the beard began to recede back into Ollivanders chin like worms escaping the first bird of the day. "Nope, nope, decidedly not." said Ollivander.

He eyed her curiously and scurried off to pull a box from the bottom of the nearest shelf. Without saying a word Ollivander handed her a wand made of jet black wood. The second its smooth surface touched her fingertips a warmth spread through them and a stream of red and green sparks shot from the end like a firework.

"Oh bravo! Yes, very good indeed. Ebony. Dragon Heartstring. Eleven and a half inches, supple. Yes that's very interesting." He put Elizabeth's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper. Still muttering to himself.

"Sorry" said Elizabeth "why is it interesting?" Mister Ollivander fixed her with what could be described as an unnerving grin.

"You reminded me of an important lesson today Miss Potter" he began. "That not everyone is what or whom they appear to be. That all we can do is trust our instincts to guide us, and allow them the opportunity to reveal to us their true selves. " By this point, Elizabeth was hanging off his every word. "It just so happens, that this wand works best with those wizards whose beliefs are strong and instincts are true. Just goes to show, the wand really does choose the wizard."

She handed Ollivander seven gold galleons for her wand and watched as he disappeared into the shadows from whence he came.


	4. Diagon Alley

Chapter Four

Diagon Alley

Finding the Weasleys turned out to be more of a challenge than Elizabeth first thought. She had imagined that a mess of ginger in a sea of pointed hats would… to reiterate George's sentiments from earlier that day… make them pop. Apparently not.

Instead she decided to continue her shopping. They would find her eventually.

Before long she found herself in Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, being fitted for her school uniform. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" She asked.

Elizabeth nodded and quicker than she ever imagined Elizabeth was headed out of the door with two bags full of her school robes, gloves and a cloak. A black pointed hat sat on her head, placed there, with an excessive amount of joy, by Madam Malkin as she ushered her out of the door.

Elizabeth looked at her list once more. She realised she already had a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and Magical Drafts and Potions but decided to replace them. She'd read them so many times she doubted they would be able to last a day, let alone the whole year, without falling apart. Having got all of her books from Flourish and Blotts, she headed towards Scrivenshafts to replenish her stock of quills and ink.

However, she couldn't help a cheeky look in Quality Quidditch Supplies as she passed. The new Nimbus broomstick was now on shelves and she couldn't help but stare at it for a while. It was rumoured to be the fastest model broom ever made, and she wanted one more than anything. She'd just have to wait, first years were not allowed broomsticks and Hogwarts was not about to forget that rule any time soon, not for anyone. With a resigned sigh, and one final glance, she continued towards her destination.

Once in Scrivenshafts Elizabeth, for the thousandth time, spent a few moments marvelling over the bottle of ink that changed colour as you wrote. Many times she tried to figure out how this worked. She had even managed to rule out the most obvious potions, coming to the conclusion that it must have been charmed.

As she headed towards the quills she bumped into a young girl who looked as though she too was to be a new addition to Hogwarts. Elizabeth approached her, "first time?" She asked.

The girl before her had bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth. She was staring at row upon row of different types of quills; eagle, phoenix, peacock and many more, with eyes wide as though her decision would affect the balance of nature. She nodded at Elizabeth, looking like a terrified mouse wanting to retreat into its hole.

Elizabeth giggled. "It's OK," she said "I'd go with eagle feather if it's your first quill. Better grip."

The girl thanked her, grabbed three of the eagle feather quills and scurried off to make her purchase, Elizabeth not far behind.

Elizabeth spent way too much money at the apothecary after marvelling at glittery black beetles eyes (five Knuts a scoop) and silver unicorn horns (twenty-one Galleons each).

She was just heading towards Potage's Cauldron shop, for the last item on her list, when a familiar voice reached her ear.

"Ah, Elizabeth dear, there you are." Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Ginny following behind, were heading towards her carrying an excessive amount of bags. "How are you doing? We've got your scales and some other bits and bobs for doing your wizardry. Just need a cauldron. Oh and Ron still needs his wand"

Molly did this every year. When school shopping day arrived she would flap like a Grindylow out of water. As if she thought they would be expelled if she forgot as much as a small sachet eels eyes. They weren't even compulsory on the list.

"Mum, relax. I've got everything. All that's left is a cauldron." Elizabeth had moaned for days when she first got her letter. She didn't understand why she couldn't take her own brass cauldron. She still held "it would be much more efficient" Every time she brought it up Molly would say;

"It says pewter on your letter dear" and that was that.

"Hold on," Ron interrupted. "You've already got your wand?" he asked.

She nodded, pulling her wand from the bag it occupied. Mrs. Weasley gasped, dropped all of her bags and embraced the young girl before her, whom she considered a daughter.

"Elizabeth, we are so proud of you. Aren't we Arthur? Take a Photo dear." Mrs. Weasley and Elizabeth posed, with her new wand, as Mr. Weasley snapped a picture which was undoubtedly destined to join the others on the walls of the burrow.

"Say Ollivanders," Said Mr Weasley. As soon as the photo was taken, and bags collected, the group entered Potage's. Their visit lasted longer than planned, as Mrs Weasley had to spend ten minutes arguing with Ron about why he didn't need a solid gold cauldron. When they did, finally, re-join the madness of Diagon Alley, they were laden with even more bags.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth found herself sat outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, splitting a mint-choc-chip and crushed hazelnuts, with Ginny; as they waited for Mr and Mrs Weasley to get Ron's wand.

"I'm assuming there's none of that left for us." Fred and George approached them, it was obvious they were trying to conceal something behind their backs.

"And to think! We just spent an hour choosing this little guy, and she forgets our ice cream." George said placing a magnificent, golden cage upon the table, at which she was sat. "Happy Birthday, Sis."

Inside, fast asleep with his head under his wing, was a beautiful, black, barn owl. Elizabeth practically jumped on the twins, thanking them profusely. Meanwhile, Ginny was poking her fingers through the bars of the cage, cooing over how cute the small animal was.

"I think she likes it, Freddie," George smiled at his brother.

"I'm not sure George. What do you think, Izzy?" Elizabeth let go of her brothers, and took a step back so she was able to see them both; a massive grin plastered on her face.

"I love it!" She almost yelled. She joined Ginny gazing at the elegant creature. "I'll name him Barney."

"Original," the twins said, in unison, laughing at their sister as she stuck her tongue out at them.

"Ready then?" Mr Weasley had arrived, Molly and Ron not far behind him. All four children nodded, but before they got up to leave, Molly interrupted.

"There is still time to go and find your brother, Elizabeth. If that's what you want?"

Elizabeth froze for a moment. Picked up Barney, who hooted loudly at being woken from his slumber, grabbed her bags and took a deep breathe.

"You're right Mum. I do want to find my brother. Where is the perfect prefect, he hasn't bragged in three hours. His head must be about to explode." And with that she walked on, the Weasleys following close behind.

She knew she would have to face Harry sooner or later, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it and not a second sooner.


	5. The Journey From Platform 9 and 34

Chapter 5

Journey from Platform Nine and Three Quarters

"Ronald, stop messing around."

"I can't find Scabbers!"

"Elizabeth, why are you going through the laundry basket"

"I'm looking for Scabbers."

"Ginny, dear, please do stop crying. You can go to Hogwarts. Next year."

"Get back here you bloody bird."

"Why would Scabbers be in the laundry basket?"

The Burrow was pandemonium. Ginny was sat at the dining table, sobbing her eyes out because she was too young to join her siblings at Hogwarts. Percy was failing at wrestling his owl, Hermes, into his cage; and Fred and George had relocated to the garden. At that moment, they had taken to tossing each other a, rather sickly looking, rat. The same rat that Ron was in a frantic search for beneath the sofa.

All Elizabeth could do was giggle. She couldn't bring herself to feel bad for Scabbers. She had never really had much experience with these furry little critters, so didn't know whether it was all rats she didn't like or just this one. Either way he made her feel uneasy.

She did however feel sorry for Mr. Weasley; who had taken refuge in the Ford Anglia they would be taking to Kings Cross Station. This was no ordinary Ford Anglia. It had been adapted in a way that it could fit all of the Weasley's, their belongings and still have room to spare. And yet it still looked as ordinary as any other Anglia you would ever see. Once or twice Elizabeth wondered what the muggles, non-magic folk, must think as a stream of children with trunks, owls and a rat exited the back of the vehicle. She dreaded to think; but that was nothing to what she thought would happen if they discovered it could fly.

Two hours later, the Weasley's were heading down platform nine of King's Cross station

"What's the platform number?" Molly asked.

"Nine and Three Quarters," piped Ginny; who had only just stopped crying and was now walking down the platform holding her mother's hand. "Mum, please can I go?"

"No Ginny. I've already told you. You're not old enough. Alright, Percy, you first."

Percy marched up to the middle of platforms nine and ten, and ran at the wall as fast as he could. A large crowd of tourists seemed to get in the way but as the last backpack cleared, Percy has vanished.

"Fred, you next," Mrs Weasley said.

"I'm not Fred, he is. Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother."

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred." On that note both boys ran through the barrier one after the other, laughing at the frustrated expression on their mother's face.

"It's time Elizabeth, dear." Elizabeth aligned herself with the barrier and began to walk towards it. People jostled her on their way to platforms nine and ten. She began to walk quicker. Leaning on her trolley for support she broke into a heavy run. The barrier was coming nearer and nearer and just as she thought she might hit the solid wall; she passed straight through it.

A scarlet steam train was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock. Another sign above her bore the words Platform Nine and Three Quarters. She was finally here.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd. Cats of all colours and sizes were winding in between their feet, as owl after owl hooted excitedly. She left her trunk with Fred and George and went for a wander to explore the train.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of windows to talk with their families, some fighting over seats. Elizabeth waved to Susan Bones, another new Hogwarts student, whose mother worked with Arthur at the ministry.

A few moments later she, made her way back to the platform to say goodbye to her mother and Ginny.

As she got there, the words she had been dreading reached her ears.

"Oi! Izzy. We just met your brother. He's on the train." Elizabeth took a deep breath and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fred, tell me you have forgotten who you are… again! I'm Elizabeth your sister. And this here is George, your twin. Remember him?" George laughed at her antics as Fred fixed his twin with a piercing look, as though he had just had an epiphany.

"Georgie! How could I have forgotten you? Do you think you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me?" Fred said getting on his knees and begging George for forgiveness.

Elizabeth left them to it as she went to say bye to her mother and Ginny. After plenty of hugs, a few tears and promising to write, Elizabeth got back on the train.

"Right, boys," she said "I'm off down the middle of the train. Apparently Lee Jordan has a baby Acromantula, and I don't believe a word of it." And with that she headed of find the dark-skinned, dread-locked boy that had been the twins' best friend since they had started Hogwarts.

As she headed of she heard Fred and George promising to send Ginny a Hogwarts toilet seat and Mrs Weasley's long-suffering response; and then the train began to move.

She wasn't far from the compartment that she had seen Lee occupying not long ago; when the two identical troublemakers caught up with her. Fred ran on ahead whilst George hung back to walk with her; he clearly had something on his mind.

"Spit it out, George," she said. She hated it when they tried to be gentle with her. It wasn't the way their little trio worked.

"You just going to ignore him then?" George asked. She could hear the tone of disappointment on his voice; but wasn't entirely sure why. In her opinion, it had little to do with him, in the end.

"For now." She replied shortly.

George caught her by the arm before she turned into the compartment that was their destination. She looked up at him.

"Look, we always go on about family, about how important family is. Now I don't know what it is you feel or think he has done but just remember this; he is family." Elizabeth looked at the floor, for some reason slightly ashamed with herself. When she looked back up George had a cheeky grin plastered over his face.

"Tig, you're it!" he yelled as he ran into the compartment behind her. And the moment was broken; just like that.

The compartment was packed with girls all cooing over Lee and his 'Acromantula'. An Acromantula was a ridiculously large spider. It was only as Elizabeth saw, what looked to be, nothing but a hairy leg sticking out of the box Lee was holding, that she understood why they weren't all screaming.

"Come on, Lee, "Fred shouted. "Let us see more."

"Yes, Lee. Let's see all of it." George agreed with his brother.

Elizabeth saw Lee's guilty face, and couldn't resist walking over and knocking the box out of his hands. It cluttered to the floor, and a Tarantula scurried out.

"See, it's only a Tarantula," Elizabeth mocked.

It took a grand total of four seconds for the compartment to clear of screaming girls. Elizabeth and the twins lost themselves in fits of giggles. Taking care not to harm it, she shuffled the spider back into its box and handed it to the disappointed looking boy on front of her.

"Well that went well," he said. The result of this comment meant that all four were so lost in laughter that they didn't notice the spider climb out of its box and through the compartment door to explore the Hogwarts Express.

The journey continued without incident. They talked about how excited Elizabeth was to be a first year; about their summers and ideas for pranks to pull. The topic had just turned to Quidditch, when the compartment door opened.

"Anything from the trolley dears?" asked the small, dimpled woman. They all stocked up on Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin pasties. She even pocketed two chocolate frogs, one to send to Ginny and the other for Ron. He would no doubt be hungry by the time they arrived at Hogwarts, having nothing but the corned beef sandwiches Mrs Weasley had packed them for the train.

The rest of the journey was spent eating sweets and playing exploding snap. Lee was unlucky enough to get a vomit every flavour bean, causing the other three occupants to once again dissolve into fits of laughter.

After she had returned to the compartment, from changing into her robes, they were interrupted once more. It was the girl from Scrivenshafts and she looked somewhat flustered.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy called Neville's lost one." She said in a bossy voice.

"Erm… Nope." The twins said in unison. And with that the girl stormed off letting out a frustrated sigh. This was the girl that no more than a month ago had been a scared little mouse who couldn't even choose a quill. Something wasn't right about this.

"Well… she was fun." Stated George and the laughter began yet again.

Elizabeth glanced out of the window. It was getting dark. She could see mountains and forests under a deep-purple sky. The train seemed to be slowing down.

A voice echoed through the train; "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave all your belongings on the train, they will be taken to Hogwarts separately."

Elizabeth felt as though an entire herd of Centaurs had taken up residence in her stomach and had decided to stampede. The nerves she knew had been there all along had decided to say hello.

All four members of the compartment crammed the last of their sweets into their pockets and joined the throng preparing to exit the train.

Finally the train stopped. People pushed their way out the door and onto a tiny, dark platform.

"We'll see you later," the twins said hugging her goodbye. "We have to head and get the carriages." She must have held them tighter than she had intended, as George whispered to her "you'll be fine; I promise."

With that they were gone; she was alone.

A lamp came bobbing out of nowhere and a booming voice followed. "Firs' years! Firs' years, over here! All right there, Harry?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Trust her brother to already know half the staff of Hogwarts. The giant who introduced himself as Hagrid was beaming at them all through a large bushy beard.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep narrow path. It was so dark either side of them that Elizabeth concluded there had to be a deep thicket of trees there. Nobody spoke much, nerves having taken over.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a moment," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Ooooh!"

Elizabeth had thought she would never see anything quite as amazing as the first day she ever set foot in Diagon Alley. The image of Hogwarts, however, watching over them; as it would for the next seven years, was breath-taking. For a moment she couldn't speak or move, she had never seen anything like it.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Elizabeth shared a boat with Susan, who she had seen earlier that day; a young sandy haired Irish boy, who introduced himself as Seamus Finnegan; and a pale skinned dark haired boy whose name she discovered was Justin.

"Everyone in?" Shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then, FORWARD!"

And the fleet of boats moved of all at once, gliding across the water which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle that towered over them as they sailed, nearer and nearer, to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of Ivy, which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle. Soon they reached what seemed to be a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles.

"Oi, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor," cried a small, round-faced, boy Elizabeth assumed was Neville. He ran to Hagrid holding out his hands and taking the offending amphibian from him.

They all clambered up a passageway in the rock, led by Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and all crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got your toad?" Elizabeth couldn't help a chuckle. She had the distinct feeling she was going to like this giant of a man.

Hagrid raised an enourmous fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	6. The Sorting Hat

Chapter 6

The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a stern face; which immediately reminded Elizabeth of Mrs Weasley after her, Fred and George had pulled another prank. You did not want to mess with this witch. That being said, she also sensed an element of Molly's maternal nature was hidden behind that strict exterior. Elizabeth couldn't place why but she had the strange feeling that if she had any problems during her time at Hogwarts, this witch would be the first person she went to.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The Entrance Hall was so big Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder how many times the Burrow would fit in it; and probably still have room to spare. She couldn't help a chuckle, The Burrow wasn't exactly small itself.

The stone walls, of the Entrance Hall, were lit with flaming torches, just like the ones at Gringotts. The ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase, facing them, led to the upper floors.

They followed McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Elizabeth could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right. It was the sound of the rest of the school and it cut a sharp contrast to the heavy silence hanging around the huddle of first years of which she was a part. However, this sound helped calm Elizabeth's nerves; Fred and George were in there somewhere and just knowing they were close made her feel safe.

McGonagall began leading them into a small empty chamber, just off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer than they usually would have. Some peering around with interest, others just nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The sorting is an important ceremony because, whilst you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts." Elizabeth chuckled to herself; if she ended up where she thought she was going to, McGonagall sure wasn't wrong. That house was made up of her family. To her it would just be like going home.

"You will have classes with the rest of your house, "McGonagall continued.

"You will sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The sorting ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. "

Elizabeth's eyes roamed her new classmates for a moment; she couldn't help but notice Neville's cloak which was haphazardly fastened under his left ear. A young, blonde girl with pigtails poked him to point it out, at which point he hastily shuffled it; only to end up with the fastening sitting nice and tidy, under his right ear.

Ron had finally noticed the dirt which had been situated on the corner of his nose since searching for Scabbers under the sofa that morning; and was now trying to furiously to scrub it off with a corner of his robe.

Elizabeth couldn't resist a quick peek at Harry who, in that moment, was attempting to try and get his hair to lay flat. She giggled to herself, it seemed he had inherited their fathers unruly tangles. Having seen pictures Elizabeth had always considered herself lucky to have inherited her mothers sleek waves, she had no doubt that, in that moment, Harry was fighting a losing battle.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Due to the close proximity of their tightly packed little group, Elizabeth couldn't help but overhear the conversation between… Ron and her brother? Harry and her brother? Her brother and her brother? She slapped her forehead in frustration. This was beginning to get silly.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was only joking."

Elizabeth tried her hardest not to dissolve into fits of laughter. Fred and George had been creating a horrifying image of the sorting for Ron for years. Last year two people had 'apparently' lost limbs and one unfortunate soul had vanished completely, if Fred and George were to be believed. Thankfully, to her they weren't so cruel and it turned out the truth of the situation was much more mundane.

Elizabeth wondered who else's imaginations were running away from them and creating terrifying images of what the next hour might entail. The young girl she had met in Scrivenshafts, and more recently on the train, was whispering about all the spells she'd learnt and wondering which one she might need. Elizabeth still didn't understand this girl and she had a feeling it was going to be one of those mysteries she had to solve; however much she should probably leave it well alone.

She kept her eyes on the door. Any minute now Professor McGonagall would come back and lead them to, what many seemed to be considering, their doom.

Then something happened which made them all jump about a foot in the air – several people screamed behind her.

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Elizabeth took a moment to breathe and calm herself. She had been startled, but she had also spent the last eleven years living at the Burrow, which had a, surprisingly impossible to evict, ghoul living in the attic. Ghosts she could deal with.

Pearly-white and slightly transparent, the ghosts glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a rotund, little monk; which from conversations with the older Weasleys she assumed to be the Fat Friar; was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves?" Elizabeth had heard the name Peeves many times. Peeves was Hogwarts resident poltergeist, and according to Fred and George, their partner in crime. She couldn't begin to think what he could have done to anger the other ghosts so much. Then she realised who she was talking about, and the list of things could've probably gone on longer than lecture about rules from Percy.

Above her the argument continued. "He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, "about to be sorted I suppose?"

A few people nodded silently.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The sorting ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly calm, Elizabeth got into line behind Ron, the bushy haired girl from the train not far behind her. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the great hall.

Elizabeth had thought her first sight of Hogwarts would be the most amazing thing she saw that night. Right now, however, she was having an internal argument as to whether or not the Great Hall had it beat.

It was lit by thousands of candles which were hovering in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. Elizabeth caught a wink from George as she passed them. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting, protectively watching over their students.

Professor McGonagall led them on so they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, the teachers table behind them. The hundreds of faces staring up at them looked like pale lanterns flickering in the candlelight. Dotted here and there amongst the students, the ghosts shone misty white. The sheer number of eyes upon her did nothing to diminish Elizabeth's calm state. She looked around and saw many faces she knew, whether they were friends of her brothers; or children whose parents worked with Arthur at the ministry. Having so many familiar faces out there made her feel comfortable and she was ready to be sorted.

Looking around at their faces, however, she could not say the same for the rest of her future classmates.

Elizabeth looked up from where she stood, and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She heard the bushy haired girl whispering, to anyone who would listen, "It's bewitched to look like the night's sky, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

Elizabeth was re-evaluating her impression of this girl. Maybe she wasn't a mystery. Maybe she was just a bossy, know-it-all. She found herself hoping that whatever house this girl found herself in; she wasn't in the same one.

Professor McGonagall was now placing a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of it she placed a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was so patched and dirty it looked as though it had just been pulled out of the laundry basket at the Burrow. It could easily have been the one Mrs Weasley has re-stitched and patched, only to have it dragged away again every time, by Scabbers as a chew toy.

Everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, Elizabeth stared at it too. There was a few seconds of complete silence, then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide, like a mouth- and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The sorting hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindor apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

Don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on a hat!" Ron whispered to her and Harry, who was on his other side. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll." Elizabeth snorted, a troll, she'd have to congratulate Fred for that one later. "Did you know about this?" Ron accused. She winked at him, and noticed Harry trying not to laugh, before returning her attention back to the sorting.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool, I will place the hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

The pink faced girl with blonde pigtails; who had earlier alerted Neville to his dishevelled state, stumbled out of line. McGonagall placed the hat on her head, which fell right down over her eyes. There was a momentary pause-

"Hufflepuff!" Shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down with her new classmates; the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"Hufflepuff!" Shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit alongside Hannah, Elizabeth joining in the applause for her friend.

"Boot, Terry!"

"Ravenclaw!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender!" became the first new Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the twins catcalling, she was sure they practised before the sorting every year.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!" then became a Slytherin. Elizabeth had to concede that the Slytherins did themselves no favours when it came to their reputation; they did look a rather unpleasant lot.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" the young boy Elizabeth had shared the boat with headed to be sorted.

"Hufflepuff!"

Sometimes the hat seemed to shout the house almost at once but others took a little while to decide. For instance, "Finnegan, Seamus!" The Irish boy which had made up Elizabeth's boat; sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

The bushy haired girl finally had a name. Hermione. Somehow it seemed to suit her. She almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly onto her head; Elizabeth waited for the result of her sorting with bated breath.

"Gryffindor!" The hat shouted. Ron groaned, it seemed he too had come to the same conclusion as her. All the Weasleys had been in Gryffindor for as long as they could remember, and they were determined not to ruin that run. For Elizabeth, though, it was more important as the same thing could be said for the Potters. However, seeing Hermione bound over to the Gryffindor table, her resolve was beginning to waver.

When "Longbottom, Neville!" the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville.

When it finally shouted out "Gryffindor!" Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back, amid gales of laughter, to give it to "MacDougal, Morag!"

Draco Malfoy swaggered forth when he was called and was immediately sorted into Slytherin. Elizabeth had been expecting this and had to smirk at the daggers that were being thrown his way. Did they all really think he was going to be sorted into Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake? He was a Malfoy after all. Elizabeth wondered whether sometimes, everyone believing all Slytherins were evil was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon, Lily"… "Nott, Theodore"… "Parkinson, Pansy"… then a pair of twin girls, "Patil, Padma" and "Patil, Parvati"… then "Perks, Sally-Anne"… and then, at last-

"Potter, Elizabeth!"

Whispers suddenly broke out over the great hall, like hissing fires. Granted Elizabeth could hear the word 'Harry' in them more than anything else, but she found she wasn't particularly bothered; maybe George had got to her more than she thought.

She made her way to the stool, looking for one last reassuring look from the twins as she did. The last thing she saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the twins smiling faces staring back at her. The next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear. "Interesting, yes, interesting. A Weasley and a Potter I see, I should know just where to put you. And yet… there is something else there. A desire for acknowledgement. You wish to be recognised. Not as a Potter…no. Nor a Weasley. But as Elizabeth. Hmm… is that desire strong enough? Where to put you?"

Elizabeth had fear shoot through her veins and all of a sudden, almost unconsciously, she found herself thinking 'not Slytherin'.

"Really… you would certainly make your own name there dear, make no mistake!"

'Not Slytherin' she thought defiantly.

"Hmm…. Well I guess if that's what you want. I must admit I am interested to see how you turn out Miss Potter. Interesting. Yes most definitely interesting."

There was silence, as if the hat was toying with her and then–

"Gryffindor!"

Before the hat was removed from her head the Gryffindor table exploded. She got up of the stool and found herself thanking McGonagall before running down to be picked up by none other than George Weasley.

"Knew you could do it, Izzy." He shouted over the din. She finally found the floor again, hugged her remaining brothers and shook a few hands before taking a seat across from Hermione for the sorting to continue. As she did however she caught the eye of the giant Hagrid, who seemed to be looking at her as though he had seen a ghost. She sent him a small smile and turned her attention back to the sorting in time to hear the words-

"Potter, Harry!"

The whispers which had started when she was called were nothing compared to the buzz that began at Harry's name. He nervously made his way to the stool and the hat was placed on his head as a hall full of people craned to get a look at him.

They waited.

She could see harry gripping the edge of the stool, knuckles turning white. Finally, the hat shouted-

"Gryffindor!"

Once again the Gryffindor table erupted. Listening to Fred and George yell, "We got potter! We got potter!" Elizabeth couldn't help but smile, she found herself standing up and joining in with the applause as Harry shook Percy's hand and took his rightful place, next to her, at the Gryffindor table.

The whole hall seemed to be celebrating Harry's sorting, except, Elizabeth was surprised to see, the giant Hagrid who was still staring at her and who seemed to be… crying. She put it out of her mind and turned back to the sorting. She must have been imagining things.

There was now only three people left to be sorted. "Turpin, Lisa!" became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now and Elizabeth couldn't help but chuckle at how much he looked like a backwards carrot. She silently crossed her fingers under the table and, with a grin, noticed Harry doing the same. A second later the hat shouted "Gryffindor!"

Elizabeth hooted and hollered with the twins while Harry applauded loudly as Ron collapsed onto the bench next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent!" said Percy pompously across the table. Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Zabini, Blaise!" became a Slytherin and the sorting was over. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and a man whose name was commonplace in any wizarding household, got to his feet. He was beaming at them all, his arms open wide as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak… Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Elizabeth applauded along with them and giggled at Harry's obvious confusion; it was clear he was arguing with himself whether or not to laugh. She had been visited a few times by Dumbledore, since the day she had been left on the Weasleys doorstep. She was well aware what an eccentric, old fool Dumbledore was; but he was one that she would… almost… trust with her life. Nothing he did or said surprised her anymore.

As she turned back to the table, she couldn't help but gasp. The once empty dishes that sat in front of them were now piled high with food. Elizabeth would never deny that Mrs Weasley knew how to put on a spread, but this was like nothing she had ever seen before: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, mashed potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, thanks to the headmasters love for muggle confectionery, Mint Humbugs.

Elizabeth dove straight for these tangy little sweets, and pocketed a few for later. A few eccentricities wasn't the only thing she had picked up from Dumbledore's sparse but memorable visits.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you-?" Harry asked him, not really knowing how to word the rest of that question.

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. Well now, I don't believe I have introduced myself properly. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron. "My brothers told me about you- you're Nearly Headless Nick."

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-" the ghost began swiftly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnegan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if this little chat wasn't going at all the way he had planned.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done too good a job of it. Elizabeth looked at the horrified expressions on the faces of her fellow house mates. She rolled her eyes.

"You did ask," she said as their eyes decreased and hanging mouths closed. Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, and sent her a grateful smile, which she returned before turning back to her lamb chops and mashed potato.

"So- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help win the house championship this year? Gryffindor has never gone so long without winning. Slytherin have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron was becoming almost unbearable- he's the Slytherin ghost."

Elizabeth laughed at Malfoy's face as she looked at the Slytherin table. Sitting next to him was a rather terrifying looking ghost, with blank starring eyes, a gaunt face and robes stained with silver blood. It was clear Malfoy was not at all happy with these seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus. Elizabeth was beginning to get the sense that this boy's curiosity, might just be his downfall.

"I've never asked," said Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the puddings appeared. Blocks of ice-cream in every flavour you could think of (Including Lemon Sherbet which was rumoured to be a particular favourite of the headmaster), apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding…

As Elizabeth and Harry both got tangled on the way to the treacle tart, the talk turned to families.

"I'm half and half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

Everyone laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked.

"Well, my Gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but my family thought I was a muggle for ages. My great-uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me- he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned- but nothing happened until I was eight. Great-uncle Algie came round for tea and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by my ankles when my great-auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced- all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all so happy. You should have seen their faces when I got in here- they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Uncle Algie was so pleased, he even brought me my toad."

"Elizabeth?" Seamus asked, the boy was at it again. Elizabeth put down the piece of treacle tart she was holding and thought about it for a second. Without knowing it, she already had the perfect answer. She could see George waiting for her reply anxiously.

"Well, I have seven brothers and one sister. So let's leave me for another time!" The others laughed, though Harry looked down heartened. That was until Ron whispered to him.

"Hey, mate, I only have five brothers." It took Harry a few moments to do the maths. He looked up at her with a large grin on his face and she returned it. That was that. She knew they were never going to be as close as her and the Weasleys, but for now acceptance was enough. The look that George now directed her was worth it, she had never seen him so…well…proud.

On the other side of the table, Elizabeth could here Hermione talking to Percy about lessons ("I do hope they start straight away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing-") she could only reiterate George's earlier statement; she was certainly going to be 'fun'.

Elizabeth was starting to feel sleepy, and the pudding plates were beginning to clean themselves too. The whole hall turned to look at the head table as Dumbledore rose once more. Elizabeth and the twins shared a look; the moment they had been preparing for all summer was almost here.

"Ahem- just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember this also."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins; stopping momentarily to give her a warning look as they passed over her.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, our caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

A shiver run through Elizabeth, Dumbledore would not say something like this lightly, no matter how mad he might be.

"And now, before we go to bed let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. This was it, their moment, as the whole school stood Elizabeth shuffled herself between Fred and George as they both threw an arm around her shoulders.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snake-like, into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

The trio took in an over-exaggerated breathe and the whole school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot!"

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last the trio were the only one left standing and singing along to a well-rehearsed funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished he was one of the ones who clapped the loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond anything we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Elizabeth had eaten so much food, she found herself struggling to climb the vast amount of stairs that made up the way to the Gryffindor Common Room. After looking around, she discovered she wasn't the only one.

Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. Down corridors where the portraits on the walls whispered and pointed as they passed. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Elizabeth was just wondering how much further they had to go when, they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them, and as Percy took as step towards them, they began throwing themselves at him. Ron and Elizabeth enjoyed watching this a little too much.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the huddle of first years. "A Poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves- Show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. Making Elizabeth chuckle even more. She would have to retell this one to Fred and George in the morning.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop and a little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it," barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. She was beginning to see a trend with this young man too. She decided it might be a good idea to keep an eye on him; in her own special way.

At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password," she said.

"Caput Draconis, "said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it- Neville needing a leg up- and found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room, a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy told them that the girl's dorm was up the spiral staircase and on their left and the boy's the same to their right. At last they found their beds: five four-posters hung with deep-red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk, all the girls changed into their pyjamas and fell into bed.

Elizabeth dreamt of home that night. Although, instead of ten faces at the Weasley dining table (Mr and Mrs Weasley, their seven children and Elizabeth) there were eleven. A bespectacled boy, with unruly hair and a lightning bolt scar, had joined them and somehow Elizabeth knew, eventually, everything would work out.

Even if not, necessarily, in the way it was planned.


	7. The Potions Master

Chapter 7

The Potions Master

Whispers followed Elizabeth from the moment she left the dormitory the next day. Some of the whispers contained Harry; but most were, to her surprise, concerning another matter. They hadn't been there more than a few days when her, Fred and George had become known as the Weasley triplets. Apparently Lee Jordan had referred to them as such during their heart-wrenching rendition of the school song. It had stuck.

Elizabeth couldn't let herself get too distracted by the whisperers though, as finding her way around the vast castle was not as easy as it had seemed.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some with a vanishing step half way up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors which wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The portraits would pop off and visit each other every now and again, the staircases changed where they led to without warning and it seemed even the suits of armour would go for a wander, once in a while.

Elizabeth found it easier than most. There was always a friendly face willing to lend a helping hand. Cedric Diggory, a friend of the twins, whose father also worked with Arthur at the Ministry, had saved her from at least one trick stair already. And Peeves seemed to be a surprising helping hand; stopping her from accidentally ending up in the forbidden, third-floor corridor and leading her back to the Great Hall. Elizabeth was under the impression that the twins had sent them both on 'Elizabeth Watch'.

She was rather glad they did, however, as Peeves wasn't as charming to any other lost students. More than once she had seen him dropping waste paper baskets on people's heads, pulling rugs from under their feet and pelting them with chalk. One time she had even seen him sneak up behind Neville, invisible, grab his nose and yell "GOT YOUR CONK!" only to have the young boy run of screaming. Yes, she was most certainly glad he was on her side.

Although the worst person to meet when lost was, Hogwarts' caretaker, Argus Filch. No matter where you were or what you were doing, he would never believe you were lost. Always determined that you were up to something, something which would lead to him having to clean up the mess. And he couldn't have that.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs Norris, a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors for him and you could always be sure that if Mrs Norris was there, Filch wasn't far behind.

Once you managed to find your classes, of course, there was the magic. Some things Elizabeth already knew she would enjoy, and even be good at. However, some she did not. It turned out there was a lot more to the magic she saw Mrs Weasley do at the Burrow, than waving a wand and saying a few funny words.

The first years had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday, at midnight, and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy, little witch called Professor Sprout. Here they learned to take care of all kinds of strange, magical and exotic plants and fungi, and discover what they were used for. Elizabeth enjoyed this class immensely, her love for potions meaning she already had a grounding in the subject, and she couldn't wait to learn more.

There was only one lesson, so far, in which Elizabeth found herself trying not to fall asleep; and contrary to expectation, it was not the one that took place at midnight. History of Magic was taught by Professor Binns and was the only classes given by a ghost. Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff-room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. It wasn't that the subject was boring, quite the opposite in fact, Elizabeth found the exploits of Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball quite fascinating, if not at some points a little disturbing. No, the drone of Binns voice could send to sleep the most hyperactive of children, whilst they were on a sugar high.

Professor Flitwick, the charms teacher, was, quite befittingly, a charming little wizard, who had to stand upon a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of the first lesson he took register, and upon reaching Harry's name gave an excited, little squeak and toppled out sight.

Then there was Professor McGonagall, and Elizabeth's first opinion of her seemed to be sound. Strict and clever, she gave them all a talking-to the moment they sat down. A talking-to which was proof of the protective instinct Elizabeth had picked up on during their first evening. McGonagall just wanted them to be safe, and know what they were up against.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn in your time at Hogwarts," she had said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back. They were all impressed and couldn't wait to get started. Elizabeth couldn't help but giggle; McGonagall knew exactly how to command their attention.

After making a lot of complicated notes, each member of McGonagall's class was given a matchstick to turn into a needle. They all came to the conclusion that they weren't going to be turning furniture into farmyard animals any time soon. By the end of the lesson the only person who had made any difference to their match, was Hermione Granger. McGonagall held it up showing the class how the tip had gone all pointy and silver. This girl was starting to get Elizabeth, more than a little bit, miffed.

The class a lot of people had been looking forward to the most was Defence against the Dark Arts. But to the majority's disappointment, Professor Quirrell turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania, and was afraid would be coming back to get him. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. Elizabeth had heard and seen many things growing up in the wizarding world, but zombies was pushing it a bit far, even for her.

Her distrust was clarified even further when Seamus Finnigan's curiosity once again got the better of him, and he asked how Quirrell had fought off the zombie. Quirrell went pink and his usual, constant stutter became worse, he suddenly began talking about the weather. Elizabeth thought that Fred and George was much more accurate in terms of the use of Quirrell's turban; they were sure that it too was full of garlic, so that Quirrell was protected from his dreaded vampire wherever he went.

Friday morning Elizabeth was sat having breakfast when Harry and Ron, who for the first time had managed to find their way to the Great Hall, in time for the first meal of the day, joined her.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked them as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double potions with the Slytherins," said Ron.

"Finally," Elizabeth remarked, and Harry turned to look at her as though she had just grown an extra three heads. It seemed he had not been looking forward to spending a delightful two hours in a dark, humid potions dungeon, with a group of Slytherins. Elizabeth tried to swallow her mouthful of scrambled egg to explain, but Ron beat her to it.

"She's a potions nerd," he said. "I don't know why. I imagine the twins are right though, she'll probably hate it by the end of the year."

"And why is that?" she interrupted indignantly, having completely given up on not talking with her mouth full.

"It's taught by Snape isn't it? Head of Slytherin," Ron added for Harry's benefit. "They say he always favours them and come on Fred says his nickname is the greasy bat of the dungeon." Harry sniggered and Ron joined him. Elizabeth just continued to glare.

She would be the first to admit that, from what she had seen of Professor Snape wandering the corridors, he didn't seem the most amicable of people. But she wasn't at Hogwarts to be his friend. Nothing was going to affect her love for the subject, certainly not a favouritism inclined, unfriendly tutor.

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," she heard Harry say over her thoughts. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor, but it sure hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the post arrived. Elizabeth had gotten used to this by now, and after years with the Weasley's demented bird Errol, post at Hogwarts was quite a relaxed affair. During breakfast owls would stream in and out of the Great Hall, circling tables searching for the owners; large packages tied to their ankles or letters in their beaks. None of these birds needed scraping off the castle windows, Errol's now rather, flat face was evidence he was not one of them.

Elizabeth had already received a package from Mrs Weasley and at least three letters from Ginny; two of those arriving the day after Elizabeth had gotten there. Today, however, Barney was missing from the flurry of owls, most likely resting in the owlery, nibbling at the treats she had left him.

Harry's owl, Hedwig, did however, land elegantly upon the table at which they sat. Fluttering down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl, and leaving a note on Harry's plate. Elizabeth watched as Harry tore it open, and suddenly realised this was the first post she had seen him get since they'd arrived. She assumed it must have been from family. She was wrong.

Dear Harry, and Elizabeth if she's with you (It said, in an untidy scrawl)

I know you both get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

Harry looked to her for confirmation, before borrowing Ron's quill and scribbling a hasty "yes please, see you later," on the back of the note and sending Hedwig off once more.

Elizabeth was intrigued by tea with the giant, but couldn't let her mind linger on it for too long as potions class turned out to be more interesting than she could have ever imagined.

The lesson took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder down there, and Elizabeth was grateful for that fact. Once the room was full of boiling cauldrons the heat could get unbearable, the already low temperature would help a lot. The walls were lined with shelves full of pickled animals floating in jars; Elizabeth was fascinated by each and every one of them; trying to remember what each was used for and make a mental note of those she did not already know, to research later.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the register. After taking a slight pause at her name; as though preparing himself for what came next, he, like Flitwick, stopped at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter, our new – celebrity."

Elizabeth shivered, Snape's tone made her uneasy. She didn't know why but Snape gave her the distinct impression that, unlike most teachers at Hogwarts, he was not particularly fond of their young saviour, and it seemed he didn't mind if people knew it.

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. She sent him a glare, but he just continued to smirk back at her; though something in his expression softened somewhat.

Snape finished calling their names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black, cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science that is potion making." He began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. Although, unlike the impressed silence that McGonagall commanded, Elizabeth could tell that Snape's was purely a silence of fear.

He continued, "as there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads I usually have to teach."

Elizabeth was transfixed. No matter how mean or scary Snape might be, his passion for the subject assured her that his class was going to be the one she enjoyed the most. More silence followed Snape's little speech. Elizabeth took a moment to look at her fellow classmates; Draco looked as impressed by Snape as she was, Neville looked simply terrified, Harry and Ron were sharing nervous looks and Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Oh no, not this time. Elizabeth was not going to let this girl beat her at her own subject.

"Potter!" Snape snapped suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

She saw Harry glance at Ron, who looked as stumped as he did; Hermione's hand shot into the air.

Elizabeth knew Snape was referring to Harry, the whole class did; but after the past few days being all about her brother, Elizabeth decided it was about time to remind everyone there was more than one Potter. She answered.

"Draught of Living Death. It's a sleeping potion so powerful it can induce upon the drinker an indefinite sleep and is an extremely tricky potion to make correctly." she said facing forward and not even blinking at the sharp intake of breath and stares from everyone else in the room.

Snape froze. She could see the confusion on his face as he too came to the realisation, there was two of them. She saw a slight smirk start to edge its way onto his face. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Draco wink at her. It seemed he had seen this smirk before, and that it boded well for her, although, not so well for Harry, as was soon to be proved.

Ignoring Hermione's hand, Snape turned back to Harry. "Let's try again. MR. Potter, where would you look if I asked you to find me a Bezoar?"

Hermione's hand shot as high into the air as it would go with her leaving her seat, but it seemed Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a Bezoar was. The Slytherins were shaking with laughter, although Malfoy seemed expectant as to what Snape would do next; she had to admit she was thinking the same thing.

"I don't know, sir," Harry answered.

Snape's arm shot out, he was pointing straight at her. She had the feeling this was not going to end well. She answered again.

"The Bezoar is a stone that can be found in the stomach of a goat. It can act as an antidote to most poisons, but will not work on things such as Acromantula and Basilisk venom." She looked at Harry apologetically, as others looked at her either impressed or disappointed, in the fact she would allow Harry to be embarrassed in such a way.

"Thought you'd open a book before coming, eh, MR. Potter?" Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Mr. Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" At this Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling. However, it seemed that this time Harry had an answer, and Elizabeth was grateful. That was until she heard the words that left her brothers mouth.

"I don't know," he said, frustrated. "I think Hermione does though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed, Elizabeth had to stop herself from slapping her forehead at her brother's idiocy; she had been right. This was not going to end well, Snape did not look pleased.

"Sit down," Snape hissed at Hermione. "For your information, Mr. Potter, Monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of Aconite. I do believe your sister has proved something here, Mr Potter. Fame, clearly, isn't everything. Well... why weren't you all copying this down?"

There was a rummaging for quills and parchment, as Elizabeth sunk into her seat; rather aware of the few members of her house staring daggers at her back. She mouthed a sorry to Harry, who sent her a small grin, he didn't seem too angry with her. Not that he had a right to be. After all, Snape was right, if he had looked at his books before coming, none of this would have happened.

Over the noise of everyone trying to help each other remember everything they had just heard and the frantic scribbling of quill on parchment; Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for you cheek, Mr. Potter."

Things didn't improve for the rest of the Gryffindors as the potions lesson went on. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long cloak, Elizabeth now understood the bat element to his nickname, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs. Criticising almost everyone except her and Malfoy. She was sure he had put them together only so he could still be seen to be praising Slytherin. He was just telling everyone to look at the way their horned slugs were stewed to perfection, when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class were standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned as painful angry boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Elizabeth made a decision, she would have to take the Fred and George approach with this young man.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as the boils started to pop up all over his nose. "Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. For what seemed like no reason, he then rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You- Mr. Potter- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he's make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor." Elizabeth had decided there was much more to Snape's dislike of Harry than met the eye, and she wasn't going to rest until she figured out what. If nothing else, her doing so may make potions class a little easier for her brother.

As they were all preparing to leave, Snape's voice sounded once more. "Miss Potter, stay a moment, the rest of you go."

Elizabeth gulped, she whispered a quick "I'll meet you in the entrance hall in a moment," to Harry and Ron, and with one last lingering look, they left the room, shutting the door behind them.

She waited. Snape was scribbling in a large ledger at his desk. A few moments later, when he was sure none of her classmates were straggling behind, he lifted his head to look at her. He seemed to examine her for a moment as if trying to figure her out, then turned back to his ledger and said, "five points will be added to Gryffindor, Miss potter, you may go."

Her jaw almost dropped, she looked at Snape trying to figure out why he was giving back the points he had just taken from Harry. This was a man, she was beginning to think, she would never figure out. It was only as she stood there dumbfounded, she realised she didn't want to give him the opportunity to change his mind. Therefore, after muttering a quick "Thank- you, Sir," she almost ran to the door and headed towards the entrance hall to meet her brothers.

At five to three, they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrambling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "back, Fang- back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back- Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous, black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in a corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight to Ron and started licking his ears. Elizabeth couldn't help a chuckle, it seemed that what they said about pets and their owners was true; Fang, like Hagrid, was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. "And I get the feeling you already know Elizabeth?" Harry said tentatively.

The giant stopped what he was doing. He looked at the small girl before him and, without warning, let out a large wail, like a wounded dog, and collapsed into a chair. Fang looked up from Ron's ears for a moment, realised it was just Hagrid and went back to his licking; much to Ron's displeasure.

"I tried ter find yeh, honestly I did...didn' know what ter do with meself...Dumbledore kept sayin'... yeh were jus' a baby... alone... in there!" by this point the giant was becoming incoherent. Harry was looking at her as if she would have all the answers to what in Merlin's name was going on, but she had no idea. Ron however was too busy trying to remove a hundred and fifty pounds of over affectionate, slobbery boarhound from his lap, and was paying no attention to anything else around him.

"Hagrid, what's wrong?" she asked gently.

"I couldn' find yeh! That bloody cupboard!" those three words was all it took for Elizabeth to understand. She remembered Professor Dumbledore telling her all about that tragic night, about Hagrid being sent to find Harry, but being unable to locate her. All of a sudden the reaction at the welcoming feast, and the events transpiring in front of her all made sense. Hagrid felt guilty.

She knelt down in front of him, taking his hand in both of hers. His hands, the size of dustbin lids, stood out, almost, comically against her small, delicate ones.

"Hagrid, now, you listen to me," the giant's sobs began to calm to sniffles as he looked down at her. "I am here, I'm fine. There was nothing more you could have done, I know that. You have nothing to be sorry for, and certainly nothing to feel guilty about. Now, that's the end of it, OK?" This was not a question. Hagrid's eyes still shimmered as he looked at her, but a large grin was making its way under his bushy beard. Before she even knew it was happening, Hagrid had picked her up in a bone-crushing hug. At that moment, she didn't care, she just hugged back as hard as she could.

At one point, she could have sworn she heard him whispered, "Jus' like yeh mother," but a few moments later she was popped back on her feet, and after blowing his nose in a handkerchief the size of a picnic blanket, Hagrid went back to making the tea as if nothing had happened. She sent both boys a look that clearly said, 'I'll tell you later'.

"So," Hagrid began, after clearing his throat, "another Weasley, eh? I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest." Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh at this, she was well aware how true it was, she had been regaled with the stories countless times.

Hagrid's rock cakes lived up to their name, nearly breaking their teeth, but all three pretended to be enjoying them, so as not to make Hagrid upset twice on their first visit. They told Hagrid all about their first week at Hogwarts whilst Fang abandoned Ron's ears and was now resting with his head on Harry's knee, drooling all down his robes.

They were all delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch, "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang some time. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her- Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid all about Snape's lesson and Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to hate me," Harry said, Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to disagree.

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid "Why should he?" One thing Elizabeth was determined to find out.

"Hey," Ron piped up. "What did he keep you behind for anyway?" she should have known this was coming.

Elizabeth looked anywhere but at the rooms other three occupants as she said, in barely a whisper, "he gave me house points."

Both boys jaws dropped and Hagrid chuckled. "Did yeh give 'im reason to?" the giant asked. She stayed quiet and watched as the two boys pondered this for a moment.

"She did answer all his questions right," said Harry.

"And brewed one of the best cure boils potions in the class," added Ron, reluctantly.

"Well, there yeh go then. Whatever yeh think o' Snape, he's a fair teacher. Give 'im a chance." A few moments passed and they drank their tea in silence.

"How's yer brother, Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot- great with animals."

While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with Dragon's in Romania, Elizabeth noticed Harry pick up a piece of paper from under the tea cosy. It was a clipping from the Daily Prophet, she read over his shoulder:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31st July, widely believed to be the work of dark witches and wizards unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

"Hagrid!" said Harry. "That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might have been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Elizabeth could tell, Hagrid was refusing to meet Harry's eyes. He grunted and offered them each another rock cake.

As they all walked back to the castle, pockets full of rock cakes they had been too polite to refuse, Elizabeth thought about all the questions she had from her first week at Hogwarts. Did Hagrid know more about the break-in than he was letting on? Was Neville, really, going to manage to survive first year? What was Snape's issue with Harry? And most importantly in her opinion, how had she managed to spend a whole week at Hogwarts, and still not have turned Dumbledore's beard an alarming shade of pink?


	8. The Midnight Duel

Chapter 8

The Midnight Duel

Elizabeth spent the next few days pondering all the questions she developed in her first week at Hogwarts; and she found herself no closer to finding an answer to any of them. It would be ridiculous for her to just walk up to Hagrid and ask him if he happened to be involved in the Gringotts break-in. She still hadn't found a way to alter Dumbledore's extensive facial hair; and she dared not even imagine the reaction she would get from Snape, if she toddled up to him during his evening pumpkin juice, and asked him politely what the hell his problem with her brother was. No, she remained stumped.

The dilemmas were driven from her mind, however, on a rainy Sunday morning, as the first years awoke to find a note, addressed to all of them, pinned to the Gryffindor Common Room notice board.

ALL FIRST YEARS

Flying lessons will begin this Thursday hence.

Arrive in your school uniform minus robe. Brooms will be provided. Wands will not be necessary

Times are as follows:

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff: 1:30pm

Gryffindor and Slytherin: 3:30pm

Lessons will continue at the allotted time every Thursday thereafter.

The location of the lessons is marked on your Timetables

Attendance is Mandatory

Madam R. Hooch

At the first reading of this announcement, a ripple of excitement ran through the common room.

All the Weasley children, excluding Percy, had been or still were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Elizabeth made it her mission not to let them down. When Charlie left home, to study dragons in Romania, he had gifted her with one of his old brooms; which he hid in the garden shed away from the prying eyes of Mrs Weasley. Whenever their mother was busy, Elizabeth, Fred and George would sneak out to the field at the back of the Burrow and have mini Quidditch games. This was a lesson she wished she didn't have to wait another four days to start.

The atmosphere in the common room, however, slowly began to darken; as the full extent of what this tiny piece of paper revealed was understood. Gryffindor would have this lesson with the Slytherins. A chorus of groans rang throughout the cosy, little room. At this point, Elizabeth didn't care, she was just excited to fly again. Her housemates did not share her sentiments, it seemed, they weren't happy about this arrangement, at all.

"Typical," said Harry. "Just what I need. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick, in front of Malfoy." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. From her perspective, this feud between Harry and Draco had seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and Elizabeth found herself wanting to bash their head together and tell them to grow up. The image made her giggle to herself, earning her a few funny looks which she shrugged off.

Although Malfoy wasn't doing himself any favours. She, at least once, heard him complaining, loudly, about how first years weren't allowed in the house Quidditch teams. She had also found herself looking for a way to deflate his over-sized ego, when she overheard him telling boastful stories. All of which seemed to end with him narrowly avoiding muggle helicopters.

In fairness to Draco, he wasn't the only one. If Seamus Finnegan was to be believed, he spent most of his childhood whizzing around the countryside on a broomstick.

Even Ron started telling stories, about how he almost hit a hand-glider on Charlie's old broom. Not true, of course, as the scar above Elizabeth's left knee would attest. She looked at the twins; Fred sent her a disbelieving look at his brother's blatant lie; whilst George seemed to be staring off into space, still somewhat haunted by the memory. She knew he still blamed himself, it had been his fault she was flying so high. He had challenged her and didn't keep an eye on where she flew. She only ended up with a broken ankle and a gashed knee, but George spent the next few weeks treating her as if she had almost died. Molly decided, after much yelling and screaming, that it would be safer for them to play in the front garden after that. If she couldn't stop them, at least she could keep an eye on them.

Turning back to Fred, Elizabeth smiled and shrugged. After all, the truth would be revealed on the Quidditch pitch.

Elizabeth did come to one realisation, due to the recent announcement. Wizarding families seem to talk about Quidditch, all the time.

According to Neville, Ron had already partaken in a heated disagreement with, muggleborn, Dean Thomas, about Football. He could not seem to understand, no matter how hard Dean tried, what was so interesting about a game played with only one ball, where no one was allowed to fly. Dean tried to explain to Ron that muggles didn't know how to fly, but was completely ignored in favour of Ron's closing argument. "What's the bloody point in a game which only lasts ninety minutes? It's ridiculous!"

Neville, himself, had never been on a broom. He told them all about how his grandmother had never let him near one, and the whole common room silently agreed; this had probably been a good decision on her part.

Hermione Granger was as terrified as Neville was. It was strange seeing Miss Granger not prepared for a class; unnerving almost. If it had been anything else Elizabeth would have been rejoicing at finally being better than her at something. As it was, she remembered the fear that had coursed through her veins the first time she had gone to fly. She could only imagine what Hermione was feeling, especially after only recently discovering that broomstick flight was even possible. This was not something you could learn entirely out of a book.

But, that did not mean Hermione was not going to try.

Thursday morning arrived, and Hermione was boring them with facts she had found in a book from the library. Quidditch through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp. If Hermione had bothered to ask she could have borrowed Elizabeth's copy she honestly didn't mind.

Both Elizabeth and Neville were listening, intently to Hermione's every word. Neville was looking for any little tidbit that might help him to cling onto his broom later. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had come to realise that this was Hermione's way of calming herself. Remembering the fear once more, Elizabeth came to the conclusion that if what the annoying, curly haired girl needed was someone to listen, then she could at least try; if only for nine year old self.

Hermione's lecture was cut short at the arrival of the post. Barney swooped down in front of her, dropping a letter (which appeared to be from Ginny,) and that mornings copy of the Daily Prophet; before flying off into the flutter of other owls.

He was replaced only moments later, by another Barn owl, which proceeded to leave Neville a package from his grandmother and flying off a second later; stopping only momentarily to steal a scrap of bacon from Neville's plate.

Neville tore open the package excitedly, and showed them all a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things." Elizabeth couldn't help but feel this was a gigantic understatement. Having prevented Neville from running out of the portrait hole, to head to charms, in his school shirt, tie, pyjama bottoms and fluffy slippers only a few days ago.

"This tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet,

"You've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. It seemed they were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy. Elizabeth found herself rolling her eyes again, she had seemed to be doing this a lot lately; especially where her brothers were concerned, and more often than not when it involved a certain blonde. But Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than Ron would smell bacon, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly threw the Remembrall back at Neville; Elizabeth catching it as it slipped through his fingers.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, the Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. Elizabeth couldn't wait to feel that gentle autumn breeze in her hair, it was perfect weather for flying.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Elizabeth knew Fred and George Weasley always complained about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. Now that she was here she understood why. These brooms were old, in her opinion, they looked almost older than Dumbledore and that was most definitely an achievement.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Elizabeth glanced down at her broom, it had certainly seen better days.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP" everyone shouted.

Elizabeth's broom jumped into her hand at once, and she noticed Harry's do the same, but they were only two of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. And it would continue to do exactly that, if the slight quiver remained in Neville's voice.

Broomsticks were like dogs, they could sense fear. It had been George who had told her that she would never get anywhere if she feared the broom. "After all," he had said. "A broom's like a wand, only as dangerous as the person in control of it. As long as you know what you are doing, you'll be fine. And you've got two of the best teachers around, ain't that right, Fred?" From that day on she had never feared flying again.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Elizabeth couldn't resist a chuckle, and noticed her delight mirrored on her brothers faces, when Madam Hooch told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two -"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and terrified of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to fly up there and help him, but she of all people knew she was likely to do more damage than good, so crossed her fingers praying Neville would be OK. She saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Elizabeth heard her mutter, and she let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding; it could have been a lot worse. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

Professor Hooch turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in, for a few days now Elizabeth had noticed that, within the Slytherin first-years, what Draco said went. Yes, she was certainly going to have drop his ego a shrinking solution at some point.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's Gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch. This situation, Elizabeth decided, was slowly becoming one that Fred and George would have referred to as a "spectator sport moment." In other words, sit back, grab some popcorn, and watch events transpire.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find – how about – up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. Not too surprised, Elizabeth realised he hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it…MR Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all into trouble."

Clearly ignoring her Harry mounted his broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; there was screams and gasps from the girls in the little huddle of first-years and an admiring whoop from Ron. Elizabeth stayed silent. She would never deny that her brother seemed to be a natural flier, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Harry turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in mid-air. Malfoy looked stunned, a sentiment that Elizabeth couldn't help but share.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!" Elizabeth's insides tightened.

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

She watched as Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-turn and held the broom steady. A few people were clapping. Elizabeth stayed silent, however annoying he might be, she didn't want Malfoy to get hurt, she would find her own way of getting him back for bullying Neville, a way that wouldn't cause his possible death.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy; and for a moment Elizabeth was distracted wondering as to whether one of the brittle school brooms would carry Crabbe or Goyle even if they wanted it to. She was drawn out of that rather humorous image when she once again heard Malfoy's distant voice.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

As though in slow motion, the ball rose up in the air and then began to fall. She watched as Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down – next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball – there were screams of the other people watching – he stretched out his hand – a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Professor McGonagall was running toward them. Harry got to his feet, and Elizabeth could see he was almost trembling.

"Never – in all my time at Hogwarts -"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you – might have broken your neck -"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil,"

"But Malfoy -"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now. The rest of you to your common rooms, this lesson is over"

Elizabeth caught Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as she watched Harry enter the castle with McGonagall. The whole situation had left her rather numb, the last thing she wanted was for Harry to be expelled, but she was angry at the same time. He had done it again. She had waited days to get back in the air and finally prove herself, and he had beaten her again. She hadn't even gotten to fly.

After depositing her broom in the broom shed, she headed up to the castle alone, her classmates not far behind her. She could hear their conversations and they all contained one thing. Harry. The Gryffindors were all, either, gushing about Harry's incredible abilities; or in Hermione's case, marvelling at how much of an idiot he had been. The Slytherins on the other hand were creating numerous scenarios of how McGonagall was telling Harry he was expelled. Elizabeth didn't know how to feel, she continued up the stone steps into the entrance hall silently.

She was so confused that she failed to notice a pair of grey eyes on her all the way back to the castle. The boy they belonged to had watched her reactions during their lesson, and had come to one realisation; maybe he wasn't the only person at Hogwarts that felt overshadowed by the great Harry Potter.

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime. Elizabeth had just finished eavesdropping on Harry telling Ron what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it. Elizabeth was stabbing violently at her Chicken pie.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never – you must be the youngest house player in about…"

"A century," said Harry, shovelling pie into his mouth. "Wood told me."

Elizabeth knew Oliver Wood, he was a friend of the twins and captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She knew that if Oliver was in on this recent development, so were the twins. She was slightly angry they hadn't given her a heads up.

As if they knew she was thinking about them Fred and George Weasley came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over not even sparing her a second look. If the chicken in her pie hadn't already been cooked she wouldn't have needed the fork to send it six feet under, the look she was now giving her plate was murderous. She zoned out from the conversation, listening to Seamus and Dean argue about who was better at Wizard Chess instead, continuing to stab at her dinner.

"What's that poor thing ever done to you?" It was George. She looked up at him, trying to hold back tears; she could never be angry with the twins when they were there. She saw George's face drop as realisation dawned on him. He sat next to her and threw his arms around her. She didn't know why but she always felt safe when he was around.

"I could always aim the odd bludger his direction if it'll make you feel any better." She giggled and extracted herself from his bone-crushing hug.

"Thanks, George." She said a small smile gracing her lips.

"Anytime, Iz" and with that he helped himself to some mashed potatoes and joined in Dean and Seamus' conversation which now revolved on, unsurprisingly, Quidditch.

Elizabeth was distracted from the conversation a moment later when Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, was heading straight towards Harry.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. Elizabeth chuckled to herself, shrugging off some of the strange looks she was sent, there was nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle. But, as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Elizabeth watched as Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. She decided at this point that she was beginning to get slightly tired of Malfoy, and quietly pointed her wand at him under the table, muttering an incantation. George looked at her strangely, she winked back at him and continued with her dinner; listening and waiting.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

As Malfoy turned to leave, all three made a strange squeaking sound, began flapping their arms as if about to take off and then collapsed, unceremoniously, into a heap on the floor. The hall erupted in laughter, as all three tried to understand, quiet loudly, how all there shoe laces had become tied together and didn't seem to want to come undone. George nudged her and winked. Yes, her mood was certainly improving.

It was only as the Slytherin trio, having finally managed to get to their feet, hopped out of the Great Hall like three over-sized bunnies, amid a gale of laughter; that she caught the expression on Hermione's face. She looked livid. Elizabeth was under the distinct impression that she wouldn't be the only one going on a midnight stroll.

It was almost time and Elizabeth lay awake in bed. A slight rustling caught her attention and she smirked. "Can't believe you're actually going after them."

Hermione stopped, mid-step. "Can't believe you aren't," she replied. Elizabeth smirked, throwing off her covers to reveal a t-shirt, jeans and slippers.

"Who said I'm not," she said. She reached the door before Hermione and headed out; stopping only when she realised there was no movement behind her. Hermione had stopped, mouth agape, staring at her.

"You coming or not?" she asked, then bounded down the stairs two at a time.

5 minutes later and after letting Neville, who had forgotten the password on his way back from the hospital wing, back into the common room; they were now in the corridor. Hermione was yelling at Harry and Ron, stood there wearing her pink dressing gown and a frown. Elizabeth couldn't help but find the image hilarious.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away." Ron snapped

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a night-time visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

Elizabeth had noticed the rather rotund woman take her leave of them not long after allowing Neville back into the common room; but decided not to say anything. She was rather intrigued as to how they would deal with the situation. From the look on Hermione's face she had her answer, not well.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we three are going to be late. I assume you're coming?" he said to Elizabeth.

"Honestly, Ron. I'm offended you even need to ask."

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not." All three said simultaneously.

"Do you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me?" That is exactly what Elizabeth had been hoping she would do. "If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"Oh thank you, Hermione. That's so nice of you. That's exactly what we should do, I'll be sure to get on to that the second I see the old git." Elizabeth replied, sarcastically.

"You've got some nerve -" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, the lot of you!" said Harry sharply.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione.

"If you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at them to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn they expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. The other seemed nervous, but all Elizabeth could feel was excitement, she was finally living up to her name as one of the Weasley Triplets. She was so proud. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. And immediately, Elizabeth knew. Maybe her revenge would cause his potential death; Malfoy has set them up. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

A noise in the next room made them jump and Elizabeth's suspicions were confirmed.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris.

She couldn't believe it; had she really been fooled by Malfoy? She expected it of Ron, and was beginning to where Harry was concerned. But, had Malfoy really managed to con the con artist? She was appalled.

Harry was now waving madly at them to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Elizabeth's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, filled with excitement (in Elizabeth's case), they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer.

They heard a small meow and Hermione suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run -she tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armour.

The cat had not been Mrs. Norris but the clanging and crashing was enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following – they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, constantly switching who was in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Hermione was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

I… told… you," She gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I… told… you."

"This was all your fault!" Elizabeth shouted back, indignantly.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you. Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

"Hermione, you really are a bloody genius! Thousand points to Gryffindor!" Elizabeth snapped. She was disappointed in herself for letting Malfoy fool her in the first place, she didn't need Hermione to rub it in.

"Shh! Let's go." Said Harry.

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves… please… you'll get us thrown out." Harry whispered.

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

Elizabeth pushed Harry out of the way. "Peeves, it's me. Look we're messing with Filch, my good sir. Do you think you could be swayed into turning a blind eye, just this once? Please, just let us past…quietly."

Peeves rubbed his chin for a moment, seemingly arguing with himself. "Peeves only watches out for Miss Potter, your Wheezy-Pottyshipness, ma'am." Said Peeves, dropping in a slight bow. "Too many Ickle firsties out there beds, Peeves can't resist. Should tell Filch, for firsties own good you know, Miss Potty-Wheezy, Miss!"

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves; this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves' shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open and they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please."'

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right -please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage. Elizabeth sent an internal thank you to Peeves, which she had no doubt, deep down, he had heard.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay...get off, Ron!" For Ron had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"

They turned around and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, Elizabeth couldn't help but admire the beauty of the creature which stood before them; then the fear set in.

They weren't in a room, as they had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and it was clear that the only reason they weren't already dead was their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Elizabeth saw Harry grope for the doorknob, between Filch and death, she agreed, they'd take Filch.

They all fell backward. Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared, all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their dishevelled states.

"Never mind that, pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested.

"Yes, Hermione, I was stood in front of a three headed dog. My first instinct was naturally to look at the floor," Elizabeth added.

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

Guarding something, now Elizabeth was intrigued. She didn't get time to dwell on this however as Hermione stood up, glaring at the boys and dragging Elizabeth with her.

I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

After entering the girls dorm Hermione let go of Elizabeth, who couldn't resist one last snipe. "Honestly, Hermione, you really need to sort out your priorities." Elizabeth did not expect what happened next. Hermione whirled round, nostrils flaring, and eyes full of tears.

"I had my priorities sorted! High school, College, Law School! Then, out of nowhere I find out I'm coming here. Here, where I am basically a baby again, being spoon-fed, learning my ABCs of this world, that everyone told me didn't exist. Magic was always just a figment of my imagination, a dream. You weren't the only person I met that day in Diagon Alley. There were two older boys who overheard our conversation. Do you know what they said? 'Stupid Muggleborn, can't even choose a quill without help. Mind out everyone, future laughing stock of Hogwarts coming though.' So that day I went to Flourish and Blotts and brought every book I could afford. So I would never need anyone's help again. I will not be the laughing stock of Hogwarts!" Elizabeth thought she had finished but what Hermione said next shook her and made her disgusted…at herself.

"Of all the people in the world I thought you would understand what it felt like, to want to prove yourself. I am no more than just a stupid, little muggleborn, than you are just a Potter." Silence.

Elizabeth was ashamed at herself. How had she been around this girl for so long and not noticed she was basically looking, to an extent, in a mirror. She was amazed that Hermione held so much stock in what people thought about her, but even more so at how fast she had managed to build, an almost encyclopaedic, knowledge of their world. That trip to Diagon Alley had been only two months before they started Hogwarts. Hermione really was a genius.

Both girls stared at each other for a moment and Elizabeth did the only thing she could think off. She stuck out her hand. "Elizabeth, nice to meet you."

Hermione stared at it for a moment, and then looked up at the girl before her a small smile creeping back onto her face. "Hermione Granger," she said finally taking her hand. "Pleasure."

A rustling could be heard from one of the beds and a disembodied head poked out from the four poster curtains. "This is all very touching you two, but for Merlin's sake, SHUT UP!"

Lavender Brown had been woken, she violently shut the curtains and disappeared.

Both girls looked at each other and giggled, before heading back to their beds.

Elizabeth dreamt of the three headed dog that night. But this time she wasn't facing it with her brothers and Hermione. She was facing it with her two brothers, and a friend.


	9. All Hallows Eve

Chapter 9

All Hallows Eve

Breakfast the next morning was an interesting affair. Elizabeth spent most of it stabbing at her porridge, glaring daggers at Draco and thinking up an elaborate and almost criminal plan for revenge. Malfoy, on his part, was staring at Harry and Ron, half amazed and half disgusted that they had not yet been expelled. And Harry and Ron were acting as though last night's events had been the greatest adventure ever, and couldn't wait to go on another one.

Elizabeth couldn't help but notice that Dumbledore looked tickled pink by their current situation. She knew the crackpot old fool was aware to what was going on, whether he knew they had discovered his 'cute, little pet,' she wasn't sure; but either way he looked far too happy watching them glare at each other from the high table. The man didn't miss a trick and it was really beginning to annoy her.

The only person who wasn't in the slightest bit reminiscing about the previous night's events, was Hermione. She seemed to be doing a great job at pretending nothing had happened, and that there was not in fact a giant monstrous dog, sitting somewhere in the castle as she pondered between fried or scrambled eggs.

Elizabeth had almost cried with laughter earlier that morning when, after listening to Ron bad mouth Hermione the whole way down to the great hall, she had finally had enough and told him to stop insulting her friend or there would be hell to pay. Ron's face had been a picture and Elizabeth had trouble breathing she was laughing so much.

"FRIEND! Since when?" Ron had almost bellowed.

"Since, none of your business," She had replied, flouncing into the great hall for breakfast, with a quick good morning to Neville and Hermione as she passed; leaving Ron with his jaw hitting the floor, and Harry trying not to laugh at his best friends expression.

The whole morning had taken a turn for the worse when Malfoy had walked through the door, smirk plastered on his face, expecting to see two less heads at the Gryffindor table. It took everything in her not to curse that smirk right off his face, but that was not the Weasley triplets way, she would get him back, no doubt about that, and nobody would forget it.

She was brought from her thoughts as Ron began theorizing as to what their three-headed friend might have been guarding.

"It's either really dangerous or really valuable," said Ron.

"Or both," Harry added.

Elizabeth thought about what could possibly be that important, but was unable to come up with anything; until Harry interrupted her thoughts.

"There is one possibility," he said.

He then spent the next ten minutes explaining to them about that day at Diagon Alley. About how he and Hagrid had visited another vault in Gringotts, other than his own. About how Hagrid had taken a small grubby package from the vault, one about which he became highly secretive; and then how Gringotts had been broken into the very same day.

Elizabeth couldn't deny, he had a point. All the evidence seemed to point to the fact, that whatever the package Hagrid had taken that day was, that was what the dog was guarding.

Their only problem however, was that the only thing that Harry seemed to remember about the mysterious object, was that it was about two inches long and covered in grubby brown paper. It gave them very little to go on.

They were driven from this topic by the entrance of the post. Owl after owl swooped into the great hall, Barney dropping a letter into her lap, and stopping for a treat, before flying off to re-join the others.

She tore open the letter and read:

Ten years my dear. It is time again.

I will meet you in my office at 5pm on All Hallows Eve; there is something we must discuss before your journey.

Bring him if you are ready, you know of whom I speak.

Albus

P.S the password is Rainbow Drops

She had been dreading this moment for a while; she had a lot to think about over the next few days. She couldn't dwell on it for long however, as whispers broke out over the hall and all attention had been caught by a long, thin package being carried in by six large screech owls, heading straight for their table. Elizabeth had a horrible feeling she knew what that was.

The owls soared down dropping the package in front of them, knocking Harry's bacon to the floor, and moments letter a final owl dropped a letter atop the package, and they were gone. All three looked at each other.

She watched as Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky as she read, upside down, from across the table.

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand,

But I don't want everyone knowing you've

Got a broomstick or they'll all want one.

Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the

Quidditch pitch at seven o'clock for your

First training session.

Professor M. McGonagall.

Elizabeth had been preparing for this moment she knew it was coming, but really, a Nimbus Two Thousand. She was beginning to think that someone in the universe really didn't like her. She was happy for her brother, really she was, but this was __her__ dream; Harry hadn't even known flying was possible till a few weeks ago.

Elizabeth was glad that McGonagall had asked him not to open it at the table, at least she could hide her jealousy if she could at least pretend it was nothing more than an old comet or shooting star. And she had to agree, if Harry was to open a Nimbus Two Thousand in the middle of the Great Hall, there would be pandemonium. She imagined Malfoy would be the first to have a few choice phrases to say about it, his anger over first years not being allowed a broom would only further their feud, when he realised that this rule had been ignored for Gryffindor's Golden boy.

The boys left the hall quickly, excited to open the broom. Elizabeth followed, however jealous she might have been, this was a Nimbus Two Thousand, and she wasn't going to pass up a chance to handle one herself.

It was almost as if he knew he had crossed her mind as, they had only gotten half way across the entrance hall when they found their way upstairs barred. Malfoy was there, Crabbe and Goyle stood either side of him, like the two loyal mongrels they were. He seized the package from Harry and examined it, trying to see whether or not his suspicions were true.

"That's a broomstick," he said, tossing the package back at Harry, a strange combination of jealousy and pride on his face. He really thought he had done it. He thought he had found the way to get rid of Harry. Any trace of jealousy Elizabeth had vanished as a large grin made its way on her face. This was going to be good. "You'll be for it this time Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist.

"It's not any old broom, it's a Nimbus Two Thousand."

"Bit out of your league, eh, Malfoy. What did you say you had at home? A Comet three sixty was it. Oh well better luck next time." Elizabeth couldn't help but add in her sickles worth, having still not got over his antics from the previous evening.

It seemed Draco had chosen to ignore her comment as he turned to Ron. "What would you know about it, Weasley? You couldn't afford half the handle. I imagine you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig." That was it. Elizabeth was an inch from grabbing her wand, no one insulted the Weasley's in front of her, when Harry's hand stopped her.

Professor Flitwick had appeared, head bobbing above Malfoy's shoulder as he stood a few stairs above them.

"Not arguing, I hope children?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Malfoy said quickly, the pure joy he felt at the concept of getting Harry expelled evident on his face. It didn't last long, however.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. Well, what model is it?" Elizabeth was doing everything in her power not to scream with laughter. The expression on Malfoy's face was hilarious.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir." Harry said, she could see he and Ron were also struggling to hide their amusement. This was better revenge than any curse she could throw at him, in that moment she could have hugged Flitwick. It was perfect.

But what Harry said next was the icing on the cake, and she had the astounding realisation that maybe her and her brother weren't so different after all.

"It's all thanks to Malfoy here that I got it, really." Priceless.

Five minutes later found the three of them heading up the stairs still laughing. She couldn't resist, she grabbed Harry and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Now that is more like it 'Mr' Potter" she said in a perfect imitation of Snape; just making the boys laugh harder.

"I have to tell Fred and George about this one. See you guys in class." And with that she ran off towards Filch's office, were she knew the twins had been planning to dump an obscene amount of Dungbombs outside, earlier that morning.

She still had to get Draco back for picking on Neville and for the so called duel and suddenly she had a plan; she was going to need their help.

Elizabeth hadn't been able to focus on class much that day. Her plans with Fred and George swimming around her head making her smile to herself. She could only imagine what she had looked like walking around grinning maniacly. She knew she had scared another first year, a Hufflepuff by the name of Lily Moon, when she had randomly stated giggling to herself, evilly, on the stairs to transfiguration. She had spent the next few minutes running after the poor girl promising she wasn't crazy and apologising, and before long had managed to make a new friend.

When she entered the Common Room that evening, it was to find Fred, George and Ron sat on the sofas; Hermione and Dean sat before them, as they attempted explaining Quidditch. By the confused expressions on the other's faces they weren't doing too good a job of it.

"So let me get this straight," Hermione said. "You two are beaters, and your job is to hit a maniac, homicidal ball at other players to knock them off their brooms, fifty feet in the air, just so they can't score and you can win."

"Got it in one, Granger; ten points to Gryffindor." Fred replied.

"That's barbaric!" Hermione almost yelled.

"Clearly you haven't played wizard chess," Elizabeth commented as she came to sit next to the twins; making all the Weasleys laugh.

"Harry gone already, has he?" she asked stealing an every flavour bean from the box on Fred's lap. Hmm… pepper, could have been worse.

"Yeah, he was hoping to see you first, show you the Nimbus. Where have you been? Didn't see you at dinner." Fred commented.

"Wasn't hungry," she replied. "So went to the Library, had some homework to do." Fred's jaw dropped.

"Who are you and what have you done with my little sister?" He joked.

She shrugged laughing it off. But George was not fooled, he could tell something else was on her mind.

As Ron and Dean separated from their small group, to play a game of exploding snap, George nudged Fred in the ribs.

"Well Hermione, it's about to introduce you to wizard's chess," he said. Hermione looked like she was about to decline, but Fred wasn't taking no for an answer. He got up leading Hermione over to one of the study tables as George shuffled up on the sofa next to Elizabeth. Those two had never been good at subtlety.

"Homework, eh?" George asked one eyebrow quirked.

She passed him the letter she had received at breakfast that morning. George read it and looked at her, confused.

"He means Harry," she said.

"I know that," he said. "But what the bloody hell is a Rainbow Drop?" Elizabeth cracked. He had done it again. The tension was gone and suddenly she was happy to talk about it.

"Well, are you going to take him?" George asked.

She stared into the fire for a few moments. "Not yet," she said. George looked at her questioningly. "Soon, I promise. Just once more, I need to do this on my own."

George nodded and the rest of the evening was taken up by exploding snap, and Hermione squeaking every time one of her black chess pieces got clobbered into tiny shards, as Fred won game after game of wizard chess. Hogwarts was starting to feel like home.

When Elizabeth woke on All Hallows morning she knew she would not really be able to concentrate that day, but she was at least distracted, as she made her way down to breakfast, by the delicious smell of baking pumpkins wafting through the corridors.

The day was beginning better than she thought, as Professor Flitwick announced that they would be starting to learn to make objects levitate. Elizabeth paired up with Neville, who gave her a grateful grin, it seemed he had been afraid no one would want to pair up with him. Ron was looking rather put out at being paired with Hermione, as harry had already partnered up with Seamus Finnegan, who was sat next to him.

"Now don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" Squeaked Flitwick, perched precariously atop his usual pile of books. "Swish and Flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important too- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said an S instead of an F and found himself sat on the floor with a buffalo on his chest." Elizabeth winced.

She watched as Neville swished and flicked his wand at the feather they had been provided. Nothing. She gave him a pat on the shoulder and told him to keep trying. Neville wasn't the only one who was having problems. Seamus had seemed to have set fire to his and Harry's feather; and Ron was brandishing his wand as though conducting an orchestra through a, what she could only describe as violent, piece of music.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms as though he was trying to fly himself.

"You're saying it wrong," she heard Hermione snap. "It's Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa. Make the gar nice and long." Ron never had been good at constructive criticism.

"You do it then, if you're so clever." Ron snarled.

Elizabeth could only watch and wait, she knew what was about to happen. Her brother was an idiot.

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, flicked her wand and said "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads. Elizabeth caught her eye and winked, receiving a subtle smile in return.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it."

By the end of the class Ron was in a foul mood.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor. "She's a nightmare, honestly."

"Lay off, Ron!" but it was too late. Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past. It was Hermione; crying. She had heard him.

"Smooth, Ron. Really smooth." And with that Elizabeth stormed off, leaving both boys behind her, looking somewhat ashamed.

Five o'clock came too soon for Elizabeth. Everyone was slowly heading down to the Halloween feast and she was hiding in her dorm. She hadn't seen Hermione all day, after that morning's fiasco, but she had no time to worry about that now. She heard Harry shouting her name and was beginning to panic, when:

"Hey Harry, I saw her earlier. She wasn't feeling too well, think she went to the hospital wing, Pomfrey told her to get some rest."

"Oh, thanks George." She heard Harry say and slowly the common room cleared. She would have to thank George later; she honestly didn't know what she'd do without him sometimes.

She slowly made her way out of the portrait hole and headed towards the headmasters office.

As she reached the stone gargoyle that led to what Fred and George referred to as 'the promised land,' she took a steadying breath. Every year since she was eight, Dumbledore had come to the Burrow and taken her on their annual Halloween excursion. But this year felt different, and she was nervous, but she had no idea why.

"Rainbow Drops." She said and the stone gargoyle jumped into life revealing a spiral staircase that led to Dumbledore's office.

She tapped her knuckles on the door twice and it swung open.

"Ah, Elizabeth, dear, I was wondering when you would get here. Please take a seat, Humbug?" He asked, she gratefully accepted and popped the minty sweet in her mouth, hoping that the offending object would mean she wouldn't have to speak. For the first time in front of the headmaster, she felt uncomfortable and didn't know what to say

"I see you decided not to bring young Mr Potter with you?" It was more a statement than a question. She averted her eyes to the floor, unsure from Albus' tone as to how he felt about this fact.

He surprised her. "Well, quite right too. I believe there are some things one must do for themselves at least one last time. Am I right?" He winked at her and she felt her whole body relax, as though she were Wizard Baruffio and Dumbledore had just removed that rather heavy Buffalo from her chest.

"Thank you, sir." She said.

"No need to thank me, dear. Now the only reason I called you up here so early is to inform you that, sadly, I will not be able to take our trip with you this year. Our dear Divination tutor, Professor Trelawney, came to me earlier today in a terrible state. I seems the tea leaves have told her that something very dark is to happen at tonight's feast; and even thought this is the ninth Halloween in about eleven years she has said such, I did employ her and therefore would be remiss to ignore her completely. Wouldn't you say?"

Elizabeth couldn't help but grin, she had the feeling that Dumbledore would always know more than Trelawney, and the mischievous twinkle in his eye gave her the feeling he was thinking the same thing. She still couldn't help but be slightly nervous, this would be the first time she had ever made this trip without him, and it would be strange.

Her thought's that Dumbledore was more likely to be the one blessed with foresight, or at least the power to read minds, was developed even further when he said, "Now I know this is strange for you my dear, but I believe I have found a more than worthy substitute. Hagrid will be waiting for you when you arrive."

Elizabeth broke into a wide grin. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. "Is he not taking me sir?" she asked, somewhat confused.

"Well, due to Hagrid's inability to apparate you will be travelling by Floo powder; to the home of a dear friend of mine, Bathilda Bagshot. Now, where my fireplace might be just big enough to accommodate Hagrid, I'm not sure Bathilda's tiny cottage would survive and eleven foot half giant barging through the fireplace, I'm afraid. No, he left early this morning and has already arrived. He is waiting for you." Dumbledore said placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her towards the grand fireplace that stood at the back of his office.

He took a pinch of Floo powder from the tub on the ornate mantle, threw it in the fire whilst muttering an address she didn't quite catch, and emerald flames burst to life within the grate.

She looked at Dumbledore, who surprised her by drawing her in for a fatherly hug. After releasing her moments later, he turned around and retrieved something from the desk behind him.

"I thought you might want these," he said. It took everything in her not to cry. Dumbledore has just handed her a dozen pure white lilies. She couldn't speak. But she didn't need to, the old man already knew what she wanted to say, she could see it in his eyes.

She was about to step into the flames, that would transport her to her destination, when Dumbledore called her one last time.

"Oh, and dear, when you return, feel free to head straight back to your common room. If Professor Trelawney is to be believed all hell may have broken lose, and I might be a bit busy. I must admit im rather excited, who knows, she may have cracked it this year. Have a good trip." And with that he left, heading to the feast

Elizabeth took one more deep breath before heading into the flames.

The feeling, which could only be compared to being pulled down a giant plug hole, was not foreign to her. Many times she had travelled by Floo powder at the Weasleys, and strangely she kind of enjoyed it. It seemed that wizarding transport didn't affect her as much as it did most. The first time wizards apparated, most threw up. Dumbledore had told her the first time she had apparated she had chosen it as a nice moment to have a nap; her older brother Charlie had said;

"Of course she did, us Weasley's are made of stronger stuff than that," and then proceeded to throw up every time he apparated for the first month he was learning. Safe to say they very rarely brought that up.

She was still spinning fast, the sensation always felt calming to her, she didn't know why. As she watched she could see the blurred steam of other fireplaces, on the network, and could catch glimpses of the rooms beyond. She allowed herself to close her eyes a moment, enjoying the sensation. Then, suddenly, her feet hit solid ground and she toppled forward, only to be caught seconds later by an extremely large hand.

"Careful there, lil' Lizzy," Hagrid has stopped her hitting the ground, face first. She had always hated the name Lizzy, but from Hagrid she found it quite endearing and so chose to ignore it. Getting to her feet and brushing soot off her robes, she checked the lilies in her hand. Still as white as when she left. Dumbledore had obviously charmed them.

"Hey, Hagrid," she said giving him a one armed hug.

"Lizzy, le' me introduce yer to Bathilda Bagshot," Elizabeth had only just realised they weren't the only two people in the room. It was quiet dark and there was books and notepads in stacks all over the room. But it was homey, and made Elizabeth feel extremely comfortable.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Bagshot," Elizabeth said extending her hand. Bathilda Bagshot was a tiny woman, with warm, welcoming eyes and silver grey hair. Elizabeth couldn't help but think she looked as old as some of the history in her books, but she seemed a kindly old woman, who was looking at Elizabeth as if seeing her own granddaughter for the first time.

"Welcome home, dear," she said ignoring Elizabeth's hand and pulling her into a hug, which was surprisingly strong for a women who was so small, and seemed so frail. "We'll then how about a nice cup of tea and a scone, before you head out." She said ushering them into the kitchen, which was also covered in papers, but had a table set for three.

They spent half an hour sat in Miss Bagshot's kitchen, Elizabeth found it difficult to call her Batty even though she had requested it, and then it was time.

They left the small little cottage, and found themselves on a rain soaked road in Godric's Hollow. Hagrid told Bathilda they would be about an hour, and he would drop Elizabeth back so she could return to Hogwarts.

Elizabeth pulled her cloak tightly around her, winter was surely on its way.

Together she and Hagrid walked past numerous houses, before Elizabeth stopped. She could tell Hagrid was finding this almost as difficult as her, after all it was almost ten years to the day he had taken Harry from this small village, away from this wreckage. She gave his hand a small squeeze, and looked back at the sight before her.

The hedge was beginning to get wild, and rubble lay amongst the long grass. Most of what was left of her childhood home was becoming covered in a dark ivy, but the right side of the top floor had been completely blown away.

She remembered nothing from that night, in fact she was glad of this. Dumbledore asked her frequently if she had seen or heard anything, but there was nothing.

Elizabeth headed towards the garden gate and lay a finger upon it, a she did every year. Her touch seemed to have triggered something, as a sign rose out of the ground, in golden letters it read;

On this spot, on the 31st October 1981,

Lily and James Potter lost their lives.

Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard

Ever to have survived the killing curse.

This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left

In its ruined state as a monument to the Potters

And as a reminder of the violence

That tore apart a family.

Tears had begun to well in Elizabeth's eyes, she pushed the gate the rest of the way open walked towards the door and left a single white lily on the doorstep; before heading back to Hagrid and they continued on in silence.

It wasn't long till they reached the graveyard, and Elizabeth stopped.

"Hagrid," she said. "Do you mind if I do this one alone?"

He looked at her, cleared his throat and said in a thick voice, "I'll be righ' 'ere, you know, if you need me."

She hugged him one last time, and headed to the back of the graveyard, the same place she visited every year.

James Potter, born 27th March 1960, died 31st October 1981

Lily Potter, born 30th January 1960, died 31st October 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death

She had always hated that epitaph, she didn't know why, it just made her sad.

She knelt down in the grass, not caring that the damp ground was making mud seep through her jeans. For a moment she couldn't say anything, she just allowed her tears to flow, as she laid the lilies at the foot of the stone.

"Dumbledore gave me those," she finally said. "He asked me to bring Harry with me today. I couldn't do it yet. He's great though, we're getting somewhere towards being closer, I think. It's just going to take some time." She had always known what to say when she was sat here; but tonight she didn't have a clue.

So instead she just sat. For once nothing needed to be said, for the first time she could sense them with her. Just their presence was enough.

And so she sat.

What felt like hours later, though could have only been minutes, Hagrid came to find her telling her it was time to go.

She stood kissed two fingers and laid them atop the stone. "I'll see you soon," she whispered. And followed Hagrid back to Bathilda's in silence.

She didn't really remember getting back to Hogwarts that night, nor did she remember reaching the common room. But as soon as she did all hell broke loose.

"ELIZABETH!" it was Ron and he was running at her, as excited as a child on a sugar high.

"Where have you been? You should have been here. There was a troll in the dungeons!"

This phrase brought Elizabeth completely out of her daze. Apparently Trelawney's inner eye didn't need glasses after all.

She spent the next hour being regaled by tales of Ron and Harry taking on a fully grown mountain troll, of Hermione lying to Snape and McGonagall, and Harry and Ron gaining instead of losing house points. Apparently Dumbledore's exciting evening had co me to pass.

It seemed that Ron and Hermione were talking again, and more so where quite possibly friends.

Although she had to admit, there were a few things you couldn't go through without ending up friends. And being attacked by a twelve-foot mountain troll was probably one of them.

"Where were you anyway?" Hermione asked.

"Hospital wing, didn't feel too well." She replied.

"Oh, are you feeling better?" Hermione asked genuine concern in her voice.

Elizabeth took a moment to think about it. She had felt closer to her parents than ever before that night, she had decided she was ready for Harry to join her and she had returned to the best friends anybody could ask for. She caught George looking warily at her from the corner, he knew she found her visits hard, and was waiting interestedly for her answer.

She winked at him, answering the only way she could that truly conveyed how she felt in that moment.

"Never better."


	10. Slash and Flick

Chapter 10 – Slash and Flick.

Autumn had certainly arrived at Hogwarts. Each morning the grounds were covered in frost, the kind that makes a satisfying crunching sound when walked on. Elizabeth had, more than once, looked out the Gryffindor common room window to see Hagrid, bundled up in his enormous moleskin overcoat, rabbit-fur gloves and beaver skin boots, defrosting broomsticks.

The weather wasn't the only thing November had brought with it. Quidditch season had begun. That Saturday was the first match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Harry's first match.

Elizabeth was excited for him, really she was. However, the blizzard of emotions stirring up inside her had caused her to make a difficult decision, she wasn't going. She knew George would be angry at her when he realized her plan, but she was sure he would understand. Besides, she had seen the twins play so many times they wouldn't mind if she missed this one, of course they wouldn't. A mantra she had repeated to herself so many times, since she had decided, she was now no longer entirely sure who she was trying to convince.

Harry being made Gryffindor seeker was a complete secret so, naturally, everyone knew about it. Apparently, McGonagall had told the Fat Lady in passing, who had run straight to the portrait of her friend Vi, to spread the jubilant news. Slowly the news got around to Sir Cadogan, a stout, demented old knight, who hung in the Gryffindor Common Room and before you knew it Nearly Headless Nick was telling anyone and everyone who would listen, "Did you hear? Harry Potter is the new Gryffindor seeker. I always knew that boy would do well." And the rest as they say is history.

It seemed everyone had something to say about this tidbit of news. Everything from "way to go, Potter," to "Need us standing below to catch you, MR Potter," could be heard through the corridors of Hogwarts. The only person who had little to say on the subject, it seemed, was Draco Malfoy. You could almost see the jealousy exuding from him. That was until the day he turned the corner, saw Harry and made some, quite frankly, pathetic comment about his glasses and whether he's even be able to see the snitch. This ultimately ending in Harry glaring, as usual. Draco sneering, as usual and the floating head of Professor Flitwick once again appearing over Draco's shoulder a second before spells flew.

In that precise moment, all Elizabeth could think was that the man had impeccable timing. It just so happened that, this time, the professor stood on a stool attempting to charm down a banner which had been bewitched to hover over the great hall doors, emblazoned with the words 'WE GOT POTTER!' Not only that, it seemed enchanted in such a way that it applauded any Gryffindor who walked below it. All the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws received a pleasant 'good evening' or 'hello' from the banner, but the Slytherins weren't as lucky. As Draco swaggered away into the great hall a vulgar farting sound omitted from the banner, followed by a tumultuous chorus of boos.

Elizabeth knew exactly whose handiwork this was, and was more than a little miffed she had not been a part of the joke, but she couldn't help but laugh noticing that even Professor Flitwick couldn't hold in a chuckle at the banner's antics.

Quidditch was one thing, but the first year workload was suddenly beginning to pile. Elizabeth was glad that the boys were now friends with Hermione, if it wasn't for her conducting her nightly study sessions with them, she had no doubt they wouldn't even get through the first term. It was so bad that Elizabeth had come to feel sorry for Hermione, stuck with those two dunderheads all the time, and so had decided to take the boys potions and Herbology study sessions herself.

These sessions however had brought her closer to Harry. She had spent an entire session once talking with him about Quidditch. About the 700 ways to commit a foul, and about how all off these had happened in one game between Flanders and Transylvania in 1473. Harry had become so interested that Elizabeth had lent him her copy of Quidditch through the Ages, which he promptly brought back the next day in six pieces. She knew she had been meaning to replace it for some reason. She quickly grabbed him a spare copy from the library and all was forgiven.

Hermione had certainly relaxed, in concerns to rule breaking, since the endlessly recounted Troll incident. Friday afternoon found them sat by the lake, huddled around a flame Hermione had conjured them for warmth. It was a beautiful thing, a soft, calming blue flame. It was so small and simple yet gave of just as much heat as any roaring fire and best of all was able to be carried around in a small Jam jar. Elizabeth had made a mental note to have Hermione teach her that one at some point.

Though for all its beauty, all four had the impression that should a teacher see them with it, they certainly wouldn't be gaining any house points. Which is why, as they saw Snape limping across the grounds, they all huddled closer, backs to the flame, blocking it from view.

Wait a minute, limping? There was no denying what her eyes where telling her, Snape was definitely limping. The more she thought about it this was the first time she had seen Snape walking since the aforementioned Troll incident. In class he had not been his usual bat-like self, swooping down on them to spout what was, in the most, and endless litany of insults and put-downs; even when she had seen him in the library this morning he had been seated behind the desk discussing an issue with the school librarian, Madam Pince. She hoped he hadn't been injured too badly. She wouldn't wish a Troll mauling on anyone. Even though Snape was currently limping towards them as if looking for a reason to punish them, or at least Harry, if there was one or not.

"What you got there, Mr Potter?"

It was Quidditch through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me."

Elizabeth waited for him to turn to her next, but he didn't. In fact, it seemed he was determined not to acknowledge her presence at all costs.

"Five points from Gryffindor," he said, then limped away.

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope, it's really hurting him," Ron said bitterly. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her brother, but she had to admit she was beginning to understand his frustration. Snape was a riddle, wrapped up in an enigma, trapped in a tightly fastened, fine silk cloak. Every time she thought she might be figuring him out he would do something to confuse her even more. Something much like taking a library book from Harry, but leaving her to sit there reading a copy of The Practical Potioneer that he had seen her procure from the library that very same morning.

That night the Common Room was filled with excitement. Excitement that Elizabeth was trying desperately to drown out; her lack of joy concerning the next day's festivities going unnoticed by her fellow housemates.

Herself, Harry, Ron and Hermione were huddled by the window, the girls checking the boy's charms homework. Hermione had thrown a fit a few times when Elizabeth had pretended to let the boys cheat off her, ("How will they learn?") only to ultimately be met with uproarious laughter as she fell into their well laid trap. Elizabeth agreed with Hermione, she would never let the boys cheat but, by having them read over their work, she could rest in the knowledge that they would at least past their first year.

Having finished checking Harry's essay, Elizabeth was now watching Hermione berate Ron for having forgotten that Wingardium Leviosa was swish and flick, not slash and flick.

"Honestly Ronald, you can use it against a twelve foot mountain troll but writing it on paper is too illusive for you?"

Elizabeth couldn't help but notice that Harry seemed restless. She assumed it was just nerves for the next day's game, so she let him be. She knew it was selfish, but she was trying to pretend the game wasn't even taking place, the last thing she felt like doing was convincing Harry he was going to be amazing.

As luck would have it however, it seemed Harry had decided on another way to occupy his fear addled brain. Getting up he told them he was going to ask Snape for his book back.

"Rather you than me," Ron and Hermione said in unison, causing Elizabeth to smirk. Although she had to agree they had a point. It seemed Harry had come to the conclusion that, at this time, Snape would most likely be in the staff room and was more likely to give him his book back when other teachers were around. Elizabeth had to agree with his deductions as to Snape's location, but the second part of his plan Elizabeth had to admit, had more than a few flaws. Maybe she could help.

"Wait, Harry, I'm going with you. There's only so much of these two bickering a girl can take." Elizabeth said gesturing at Ron and Hermione, who were now arguing as to whether it was more important that Ron had saved her life from a mountain troll or got an A on a class paper.

The last thing Harry and Elizabeth heard as they exited the common room was a "Hey!" from the arguing couple in question and then they were plunged into the silence of the seventh floor corridor. The chatter and laughter of their housemates a mere echo from behind the portrait hole.

The walk to the Hogwarts staff room was a whole seven floors down and Elizabeth knew that, should their current awkward silence continue, she might be asking Snape to commit her to an insane asylum by the time she got there, rather than just simply asking for a book back.

She amused herself for a moment with what's Snape's reaction might be if she were to make such a request and after a quick chuckle to herself, decided to break the proverbial ice.

"You OK?" She asked, unsure if she truly wanted the answer.

"Fine," he replied, with what was clearly a fake grin and a slight shrug of his shoulders. Annoyingly, this frustrated her even more and she realised she was going to have to have the conversation she had been avoiding, no matter how much she didn't want to.

She stopped in the middle of the corridor, causing Harry to almost walk straight into her.

"What…?"

"Look, Harry," she interrupted. "You don't need to be your twin to see how nervous you are, but unfortunately for you, I am. So spill!"

Harry looked at her for a moment and then began walking again, motioning for her to follow.

"It's just…"he paused.

Elizabeth pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.

"If you don't talk in a minute Mr. Potter, I'm gonna make you."

"Alright, alright," Harry chuckled. They both knew that with a wand there was very little she could do. Had she threatened to spike his even pumpkin juice with some kind of can't-stop-talking-potion however he would have had much more pause for thought.

"I'm going to make a complete fool out of myself, I know. Everyone keeps saying it. I've only rode a broom like ten times! I didn't even know magic was anything more than something in a storybook till a couple of months ago! It's gonna be a disaster, I just know it." He stopped and took a deep breath. Elizabeth could see, just from the tension that had drained from his shoulders that he had been dying to get all this out, probably, from the moment he'd been put on the team.

She immediately had the urge to yell at him for being a complete and undeniable idiot, but decided that he probably wouldn't take kindly to that; or understand why. She ultimately decided to take the gentler route…well as gentle as a Weasley triplet could take anyway.

"Let's analyse that statement for a moment shall we?" She stated matter-of-factly. "First, you only became aware that magic existed months ago; look at Hermione, so did she and she's pretty much the brightest witch of our age."

Harry went too interrupted, but Elizabeth gave him a look that clearly stated she wasn't done yet and he shut up with a slight grin. A slight grin that, even to Elizabeth, clearly said, 'oh, so this is what it's like to have a sister.'

"Secondly," She continued. "You have only rode a broom about ten times. At least eight of which have been in front of the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team and they can't stop raving about you." She could see that she was slowly getting through, but she wasn't quite there. "As for people saying you are gonna be useless; well, the Slytherins are just trying to psych you out so they can win and everyone else is just jealous." She was almost there, time to crack out her crowning glory. "And if you need any more convincing all I can tell you is you won't make a fool of yourself, Quidditch is in your blood."

Harry gave her a confused look. She was grateful no-one else had told him yet or her final argument would not have packed anywhere near the punch she wanted it to. It was about time this boy learned where he had come from.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Our father was a chaser, Harry. One of the best Gryffindor ever had, if McGonagall is to be believed. So go out there and make him proud, you have it in you. I know you do." It was only after saying it she realised just how sisterly she sounded, but what scared her most was how right she felt saying it. It wasn't a lie to make him feel better, she knew he would make her father proud and most likely her too. Still didn't mean she was going to go though and suddenly she had never wanted this journey to end more.

She didn't have too long to linger on that thought though as before she could take another step, two arms had engulfed her in an embrace which was trying to rival Hagrid's. However awkward she felt she couldn't help but hug him back. She knew they would never be as close as her and the Weasley's, but the whispered 'thanks, sis,' in her ear was enough to make her realise they were making progress.

Harry released her and she was amazed to see that they were standing right outside the staff room door. Elizabeth found herself wondering if Hogwarts had sensed she wanted her current conversation to be over as soon as possible and had made some of the hallways shorter as a helping hand. She sent a silent thank you to the castle, raised her small fist and knocked three times on the oak door.

A slight commotion could be heard from within and a moment later the bulging eyes of the school caretaker, Argus Filch, could be seen staring down at her as the door opened.

"Evening sir," she began, in the sweetest, most innocent voice she could muster. "We were just wondering whether or not Professor Snape might be here?"

"Come in," Snape's subtle tones drifted out to them as Filch stepped aside to allow them entry.

The staff room was a long, panelled room with mismatched, dark wooden chairs; upon one of which Professor Snape was seated behind a large mahogany desk.

"Hello, Sir." Elizabeth began.

"To what do I owe this visit, Miss Potter?"

"Well, sir," she began, preparing to deliver the perfect speech for the situation, that she had created on the walk down. She would always thank Fred and George for her uncanny ability to be able to fully focus on two things at once, she would have got in a lot more trouble over the years if it wasn't for this talent.

"I brought my brother to apologise, Sir." Snape's eyebrows raised, everything was going to plan. "You see, it was me that lent the book from the library and gave it to Harry to borrow. I was unaware of the rule, Sir, and I promise it won't happen again. I was just wondering would it be at all possible to get the book back? I will personally see to it that it doesn't leave the castle again, Sir." Now all she could do was wait, and thank her lucky stars that she was highly adept in sucking up. The slight smirk that was appearing on Snape's face however made her panic, not many people could see through her; not even Mrs Weasley at times. Had Snape really cracked her?

Luckily for her his next words assuaged those fears.

"I seem to recall you saying, Miss Potter, that you brought your brother to apologise. From where I am sitting her seems to be doing very little of anything."

Harry seemed about to say something, highly not suited to the situation, but Elizabeth gave him a look. One that clearly said, 'apologise now or I will make you …and I won't need a potion…or a wand for that matter.'

"Sorry, Sir, it won't happen again. Please could I have my book back?" Harry mumbled begrudgingly.

Snape seemed to smirk for a moment and then stood to retrieve the book from a cabinet, labelled 'Confiscated Items', behind him.

As Snape turned away from them, to get the book, Harry gave an almost inaudible gasp and it wasn't long before Elizabeth noticed why.

As he had moved Snape's robes had swung to reveal a bloody gash down the side of his leg. A gash that certainly wasn't caused by any Troll.

Elizabeth schooled her face into a neutral expression as Snape turned back to her, handing her the book.

"Thank you, Sir," she said, turning towards the door to find Harry had already gone.

She was about to shut the door behind her when, "Miss Potter?"

She turned back to face Snape.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Make sure he doesn't do it again. Do you understand?" No. She wasn't entirely sure she did. Was he suggesting he was instilling this rule solely to get at Harry? No, he couldn't be. Although, it would have explained why he had left her with her book and taken Harry's earlier that day. Either way Snape was waiting for an answer, so she replied as simply as she could.

"Yes, Sir, I think I do." And with that she left shutting the door behind her and heading towards Harry, who she could see pacing at the opposite end of the hallway.

"You keep wearing a whole in the floor like that and you'll end up being introduced to the Slytherin Common Room." She said giving him back his book.

He took it from her, mind clearly racing with a million different theories; each one she imagined more ridiculous then the next.

"Don't you see what this means?" Harry asked.

Elizabeth had to admit, something strange was definitely going on. However, she also had the strangest feelings that the conspiracy theories Harry was undoubtedly about to regale her with, all the way back to the Gryffindor common room, had one hundred percent, undeniably, unequivocally nothing to do with it.


	11. Bunnies, Kittens and Fluffy Ducks

Chapter 11

Bunnies, Kittens and Fluffy Ducks

The next morning dawned cold and bright. It also found Elizabeth, curled up on one of the hard, stone benches in the dungeons; a copy of a practical potioneer perched on her lap. It was her futile attempt at avoiding her housemates. She could just imagine their faces as they headed out to the game and she stayed curled up on the common room sofa with a good book. It was this mental image that had seen her jumping into some jeans, fluffy slippers and a Mrs. Weasley original jumper at six am that morning heading to take refuge somewhere, she had recently come to realize, she felt most safe.

However, no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on this months featured article, (Melting Cauldron Bottoms: How Long Can We Allow This Problem To Persist?) it refused to leave any trace of meaning behind. Her mind was plagued with thoughts of the disaster that was the previous night and was bombarding her with questions, none of which she had the answers to. No matter what she did, her mind would not be quiet, even for a second.

It was time to resort to desperate measures, she had actually taken to counting the cracks in the dungeon wall, against which she was leaning, to attempt to distract her whirring mind; when two people walked passed, seemingly oblivious to her presence.

It was only as they had gone far enough passed her that she risked at peek at who it was. Draco Malfoy and another first year Slytherin, Elizabeth recognized from the sorting as Blaise Zabini, were headed to breakfast. It must have gotten later than she had thought. She watched them for a moment, making sure they had rounded the corner and were gone before she relaxed.

Her relaxation did not last long, however, as the slight breeze in the dungeons carried his voice back to her.

"No, you go on ahead, I'm just going to grab my Omnioculars and I'll meet you there."

Elizabeth sank back into her seat as far as she could go. Shutting her eyes tightly, she hoped that if she thought hard enough Hogwarts would sense her distress and render her invisible, just for long enough that she could go unseen. The sound of someone plopping down on the bench next to her destroyed this illusion.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She asked, repositioning herself on the bench. If she was going to have to have this conversation she was at least going to do it comfortably. She opened her eyes to be met by a stormy grey gaze which looked, almost, amused.

"You're in my territory here, Potter. What do you want?" She had to give him credit where it was due, he had her there; not that she was going to tell him that.

"How about some peace and quiet?" She replied.

"You want to head down to the lake for that. Chance would be a fine thing down here."

The lake.

Why hadn't she thought of that herself? Although something else about his comment did strike her.

"What, you can't be telling me, you don't like the dark, cold dungeons Mr. Slytherin?" She questioned him, the humour in her voice surprising even her.

"Oh, I love them. It's just all the irritating Gryffindors we get down here, cluttering up the place, gets quite suffocating." She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, but she wasn't in the mood to argue; she had done enough of that last night.

"Look, Malfoy, I'm really not in the mood for you today. If it's a childish spat you're looking for, why don't you go find Harry or Ron, I'm sure they'd be happy to oblige." Draco's eyes widened and his smirk, if possible, grew even bigger.

"Potter, you just gave up the chance to yell at me and then went on to insult your precious Scarhead and the Weasel all in the same sentence. Trouble in Gryffindork land? Spill."

Elizabeth looked at the young boy before her as though he had grown an extra three heads. What a completely ridiculous idea.

"To you?" She spluttered incredulously, trying extremely hard not to laugh in Malfoy's face.

"I don't see any other Knights in shining armour out here, do you?" he said, puffing up his chest, she was sure there would come a point where that boy's head was so big he wouldn't even be able to enter the great hall.

A few moments later, Elizabeth's internal laughter died. Slowly the realization hit her. He was being serious; well as serious as she imagined he could get anyway. It was absolute madness. There was one hundred percent no way she was about to spill her soul to Malfoy of all people. No way. Not a chance. Not in a million years... Was there?

She had no idea how it happened. If it wasn't for the fact that she hadn't drank anything all morning she would have thought someone had dropped a truth serum into her morning pumpkin juice. No, she couldn't even use that excuse, this was all her. Almost on autopilot she had stood up and began ranting all the thoughts that had been plaguing her mind all morning and she showed no sign of stopping.

"Look, Malfoy, I had to spend the best part of last night with the brain dead trio discussing how Snape is an evil villain, who stalks the night looking for fluffy bunnies and cute little kittens to eat and is sung to sleep by the sound of student, hanging by their thumbs in the dungeons..." She caught Malfoy's incredulous look as she paused for breath.

"Oh, OK, maybe they didn't put it quite like that. Although, with the ridiculous ideas and theories they were coming up with, they may as well have." Malfoy looked as though he might interrupt, but didn't get the chance as she pressed on.

"And then I find out my so called little sister can't keep a secret to save her life, she blabbed to George about my decision to not go to the game today..." Malfoy gave her a questioning look that just seemed to irate her even more.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Mr I'm-Jealous-Of-The-Boy-Who-Lived-Because-He-Gets-All-The-Attention. You of all people know exactly why I'm not going." Draco had looked slightly put out by that comment but realised she wasn't finished and stayed quiet.

"So anyway, this wonderful revelation, led to an argument where he had the nerve to tell me I'm a self-centred brat who needs an attitude adjustment. To which I, so eloquently, replied the he was an over-protective sod that needed to keep his abnormally large nose out of my business. Which of course I didn't mean and now I don't know how to apologise. So you see, I really don't need your silliness today. And as for your knight in shining armour status, you are much more an idiot in tin foil, but you wanted to listen so there you have it. What exactly are you going to do about it Oh Great One?" She said with a heavy sigh plopping back on the bench and looking at Malfoy, who she was shocked to see wasn't laughing at her. In fact, to her surprise, he seemed deep in thought.

For a moment she thought he had completely lost it, he just seemed to be staring off into space; when suddenly he spoke.

"As for Snape..." he began, "Accurate, though I think the students hanging by their thumbs thing is more filch myself."

Elizabeth let out a loud choked laugh, more out of shock than anything else. This was not how she had seen this conversation going.

"As for your sister," he continued. "Not that I'd ever compliment a Weasley, I may have to shower just for saying this," Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but couldn't seem to shift the grin that was now plastered on her face, intrigued at where this conversation was going.

"She is your sister, and she is probably just worried about you." Draco made a face as if even the words were sour on his tongue.

"As for the one with the abnormally large nose..."

"George!" Elizabeth corrected him, but Draco wasn't listening.

"I don't think there is anything to apologise for there. He is over-protective, he's your brother, he is supposed to be. And he does have a rather large nose, but hey, at least he isn't in it alone." Elizabeth giggled at that one. She actually giggled. She was beginning to get rather appalled at herself.

"As to my knight in shining armour status; HEY! And as for not going to the game, you're an idiot." This one earned him a punch in the arm.

"Hey!" she reiterated his previous sentiments.

"Look," he began. "If it was any other first year that had made a house team, but Scarhead," she gave him a warning look that he proceeded to ignore.

"Would you be going to the game?"

Suddenly it all hit her. He was right. George was right. She was self-centred and maybe when it came to Harry she did need an attitude adjustment. She was punishing Harry and in doing so, ultimately, punishing no-one but herself. Malfoy was right, she was an idiot.

Somewhere in the distance the sounds of doors slamming and the buzz of the herd beginning to head to breakfast could be heard.

Draco stood.

"You off? Gotta keep up that Malfoy reputation now haven't we?" She said sarcastically.

"Naturally, I can't be seen to be hanging out with a Quidditch hater now can I?"

"I'm not a..." but what she wasn't she never got to say as Malfoy interrupted.

"Then prove it!" He started walking away.

He only got a few steps, however when he stopped and turned back.

"Oh, and Potter, nice slippers." And with that he headed off and rounded the corner, leaving her behind staring at the fluffy duck slippers she had been wearing throughout her rant.

Only one thing was going through her mind; 'memo to self- fetch more appropriate footwear before heading to breakfast ready for the best game of the season.'

With a smile and her mind a thousand times quieter than it was, she headed off to enjoy the festivities she had been avoiding all week. One thing was certain, however, Malfoy was never going to let her live this down.


	12. Quidditch

Chapter 12

Quidditch

The great hall was immensely inviting with its aroma of fried sausages and the gentle hum of chatter that was the excitement for the day's game. Elizabeth said a quick good morning to a few people as she passed; including the twins' friend Cedric Diggory, who seemed to be in the middle of making a bet towards Gryffindor's success.

She did not, however, miss the sly smirk and subtle wink she was thrown by Draco Malfoy as she entered the Great Hall, now wearing much more appropriate footwear.

She was just reaching an empty seat, across from Harry when the ever inquisitive voice of Seamus Finnigan assailed her ears.

"Aren't Seekers usually the ones who get nobbled by the other team?" he asked through a mouthful of Sausage.

"Smooth, Seamus. Really smooth," she said, plopping into the empty seat next to Neville as the others laughed. The others minus Harry that was, who was sitting across from her looking greener than a freshly pickled toad.

A ruckus from down the table caught her attention and Elizabeth turned to see Fred and George heading towards them.

"Harry, old chap, hope you're gonna eat more than that, gonna need your strength today. Oh, and Izzy, you missed a post. Barney left you this."

Fred handed her a small red envelope as both boys squeezed their way past Seamus and Neville to sit either side of her.

As the table turned back to talk about the game, and Hermione finally convinced Harry to nibble at a piece of toast, George elbowed her in the ribs.

"Thought you weren't coming?" he whispered.

"And miss my little bro's first match? What would give you that ridiculous idea?" She hoped her statement had said everything she couldn't voice and if the giant grin that was making its way onto George's face was anything to go by, it had. The grin he now fixed upon her destroyed any doubts she still had, she was doing the right thing.

Their moment was broken, however, by none other than Harry himself.

"Little Brother?" he had clearly just processed the snippet of their conversation he had overheard.

A sly grin spread over her face as she replied.

"Older by six minutes little guy, and don't you forget it."

"Could this day get any worse?" Harry replied, dropping the still almost whole piece of toast and resting his head on his palms, as the others did nothing but laugh at their friends 'misfortune'.

"Well," said George next to her, "It just did for me and Fred."

Elizabeth had just opened the letter Barney had left her that morning and George had been reading over her shoulder.

"How so, Georgie?" replied Fred, his confusion evident on his face.

"Izzy's letter was from Mum, thanking her for the birthday present."

"WHAT!" replied Fred and Ron in unison, Ron's fork clattering to the floor as they both jumped out of their seats.

Elizabeth noticed McGonagall's head perk at the teacher's table, but after realizing that this was just a family issue that didn't need her attention, she went back to her bacon.

"When was that?!" Ron panicked.

"The day before Halloween, as it is every year Ronald." This earned a snort from Hermione, but her brothers weren't listening as they were too busy panicking about their current predicament.

"What did you get her?" George asked, still looking at the note he had snatched from Elizabeth's hands.

"Made her a scarf didn't I," She had really wanted to make them suffer for forgetting a Molly's birthday, but today was Quidditch and they needed their heads in the game… literally.

"Don't worry, I said it was from all of us. You too, Harry."

"Thanks," said Harry, eyes wide, seemingly surprised that she had thought of him.

An arm was thrown over her shoulder from either side as the twins smiled at her appreciatively and Ron retook his seat with a relieved sigh.

"What would we do without you, sis?" George asked.

"Crash and burn, dear brother mine, crash and burn."

By 11 o'clock the whole school seemed to be in the stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch. Many students had brought binoculars and Elizabeth was cursing herself for not being better prepared. The seats may have been high up, but Quidditch was such a fast paced game, it was still, at times, difficult to see what was going on.

Ron, Hermione and Elizabeth had found seats at the front of the Gryffindor stands along with Neville, Seamus and, the West Ham supporter, Dean Thomas.

Elizabeth had discovered on their way to the stands that the other first years of her house had gotten together and made a banner, out of one of the bedsheets Scabbers had destroyed. It emblazoned the words 'POTTER FOR PRESIDENT' and Dean, who Elizabeth discovered was impressively good at drawing, had drawn underneath the words a majestic lion.

Elizabeth had felt left out, albeit through no-one's fault but her own, and therefore decided to quickly help Hermione add a tricky little charm, George had taught her, that would allow the letters to flash all different colours.

"So, why weren't you going to come, Elizabeth?" clearly Seamus had been listening in to her and George's conversation.

"Just being an idiot really, Seamus," she answered, a slight grin on her face.

"What made you change your mind?" Hermione asked; making Elizabeth wonder whether or not Seamus was contagious.

She thought about her answer carefully for a moment, and came back with the safest thing that popped into her head.

"Some fluffy Ducks." She replied, throwing a subtle glance at Malfoy as she did. He was currently sat at the front of the Slytherin stands to their left, looking endlessly bored, as Crabbe and Goyle stood either side of him seemingly arguing about something. Elizabeth amused herself for a moment at the idea of them arguing over who had the least IQ points.

Her glance did not go unnoticed by the other female in their number; but seemingly had by the others as Ron replied eloquently.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, you're officially insane!" Earning a chorus of laughter from those around him.

Suddenly, the noise of the crowd increased and the little group stopped to watch and cheer as the players made their way onto the field.

Even from this distance Elizabeth could see Harry visibly relax upon spotting their banner, fluttering high above him, and immediately she was immensely glad she had come.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the pitch, waiting for the two teams, broom in hand.

"Now, I want a nice clean game, from all of you." Elizabeth snorted. Gryffindor versus Slytherin, like that was going to happen. She had just resigned herself to crossing her fingers and hoping no-one got hurt too badly. From the glare madam Hooch was clearly giving the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, she wasn't holding out much hope either.

"Mount your brooms, please." Elizabeth watched as Harry climbed onto his Nimbus Two Thousand; even from as far away as she was, Elizabeth couldn't help but think that it was definitely the best looking broom on the field. For a moment her jealousy arose again, but it was replaced almost immediately, by something else, by something she would almost go as far as calling pride.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her Silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up into the air and they were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor, what an excellent Chaser she is- and rather attractive too,"

"Jordan!"

Elizabeth couldn't hold back a laugh. Lee Jordan was commentating and if McGonagall didn't have his head, for that comment, she knew Fred would. He had been crushing on Angelina since his first year and didn't think anyone knew. Honestly, how stupid did he think she was?

"Sorry, Professor. And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's," Elizabeth couldn't help but agree. Alicia was fast.

"Back to Johnson and – no, Slytherin have taken the Quaffle. Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes- Flint flying like an Eagle up there- he's going to sco- no, stopped by an excellent move by the Gryffindor Keeper, Wood."

Elizabeth was buzzing with excitement and she wasn't the only one. The atmosphere was incredible. As her gaze passed the Slytherin stands, she could see that Malfoy looked anything but bored now.

"That's Chaser Katie Bell with the Quaffle, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and- OUCH! That must've hurt- hit in the back of the head with a Bludger."

Elizabeth cringed. Bludgers were the homicidal maniac balls as Hermione had termed them, and Elizabeth would be the first one to agree with the accuracy of that statement. It was Katie's first game to and Elizabeth hoped she wasn't hurt too badly, the last thing Gryffindor needed was to lose a chaser, this early in the season, because they were too frightened to play anymore.

"Quaffle taken by Slytherin- that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger- sent his way buy Fred… or George Weasley, never can tell which."

Elizabeth giggled, over the years she had become so attuned to the twins' presence that she didn't even have to look, these days, to know who was who. However, even when they were younger the troublesome twosome couldn't pull the wool over her eyes. She had noticed, early on, that the was a small mole on George's neck that his, almost, mirror image didn't possess; after that they were always stumped and amazed at how she did it, she would just laugh.

Elizabeth knew that Molly was aware of this distinguishing feature, but for some reason she always let them get away with it. Whenever Elizabeth used to bring it up with her, she would simply smile contently and say, "You'll understand one day, dear."

"Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes- She's really flying- dodges a speeding Bludger- the goalposts are ahead- come on, now Angelina! Keeper Bletchley dives- misses- GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

The Gryffindor stands erupted. Elizabeth may have been worried about the effect the noise may be having on her hearing if it wasn't for the fact that she too was screaming a loudly as everyone else. She took a moment to take it all in and could see it wasn't just the Gryffindor's happy with the way this game was progressing. She could just make out Cedric Diggory in the stands to their right, one step closer to winning his best, shouting just as loudly as she was.

The Slytherins, however, did not look happy. Howling and moaning at their current predicament. Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh at seeing Malfoy slap Goyle upside the head. She had no idea what had been said, or was going on, but didn't really care as she knew the image would amuse her all day anyway.

"Budge up there, move along." She was dragged out of her thoughts as Hagrid was now squeezing his way between Ron and Hermione, to seat himself next to her.

"Hagrid! What are you doing up here?" She questioned, breathlessly, still not having recovered her composure from their previous celebrations.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," he replied, patting a large pair of binoculars hanging around his neck.

"But it ain't the same as bein' in the crowd. No signs o' the Snitch yet?"

"Nope," Ron replied.

"Harry hasn't had much to do yet, it's been nice. Let's him settle in properly." Elizabeth added, knowing Harry's moment would come soon enough.

"He's kept outta trouble though, that's somethin'" said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering upwards. For a moment Elizabeth wondered if Hagrid was still talking about Quidditch, but chose to ignore it as she followed the giant's gaze up towards the tiny dot that was Harry. In that moment, he was circling high above the action, looking for that speck of gold, which signalled the Snitch and the end of the game.

More than once, Elizabeth had thought she had seen the Snitch, to have it only be one of the Weasley twins' wrist watches. She'd have to bash their heads together for that one later.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying.

"Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the – wait a moment- was that the Snitch?"

The Snitch was a tiny, golden, winged ball which, when caught by a Seeker, signalled the end of the game and won said Seeker's team one hundred and fifty points. It was usually a fair shout that whichever teams' Seeker caught the Snitch would win. The catch? The snitch was the size of a walnut, impossibly fast and damned near impossible to see.

A gasp ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too distracted by the flash of gold which had just skimmed his left ear.

Elizabeth could tell Harry had seen it, she watched as he skillfully dived downwards, the Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs, snapping at his heels.

Elizabeth had never seen two seekers so closely matched, but the Nimbus was faster. Harry put on a burst of speed-

WHAM!

The Gryffindor stands yelled and hollered in outrage. Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose and sent his broom spinning off course, Harry holding on for dear life. Elizabeth let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, Harry was fine. In an instant of this realization she was ranting along with the rest of her housemates.

"FOUL!" She yelled. She wasn't sure if it was or not, there was seven hundred ways to commit a foul in a game of Quidditch, she couldn't be expected to remember them all. On the other hand, surely what Flint has just done couldn't be legal, he could've killed Harry.

It wasn't.

Madam Hooch gave Flint a stern talking to and declared a free shot to Gryffindor as an appreciative cheer rippled through, most of, the stands.

Ultimately, however, the golden snitch had once again disappeared.

From behind her, Elizabeth could hear Dean Thomas yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red Card!"

Elizabeth hadn't the foggiest what a Red Card was, but Dean's enthusiasm was contagious and she found herself yelling. "Yeah ref! You heard him, what he said!" Earning her a pat on the back from Dean and laughter from the others. Except for Ron that was, who simply looked confused.

"This isn't Football, Dean!" Ron reminded him. "You can't send people off in Quidditch. And what the bloody hell is a Red Card?"

But Hagrid seemed to be on Dean and Elizabeth's side.

"Well they outta change the rules, Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air!"

Lee Jordan's impartiality was fading, along with, it seemed, Professor McGonagall's patience.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating…"

"Jordan!"

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul…"

"Jordan, I'm warning you!"

"All right, Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone I'm sure- so a penalty is awarded to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet who puts it away, no problem and we continue play…"

"Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle. Flint passes Spinnet- passes Bell- hit hard in the face by a Bludger; hope it broke his nose…" Elizabeth had always known Lee was funny, but she couldn't stop laughing, she would have to congratulate him on a job well done later.

"Only joking, Professor- Slytherin score- damn!" The Slytherin stands were roaring.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doin'," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn't know any better I'd say he'd lost control o' his broom! But he can't have." Elizabeth began to notice people throughout the stands pointing up at Harry. His broom had begun to roll over and over, with him only just clinging on.

It all happened so suddenly, but Elizabeth was frozen in fear. A fear like she had never felt before. The whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling thirty feet in the air, holding onto his broom with nothing but is right hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" For once, Seamus had a fair point. However, Hagrid's next words made it clear that something a lot worse than Quidditch rivalry was at fault.

"Can't have," he said, Elizabeth could hear a slight quiver in his voice that did nothing to assuage her current panic. Which also wasn't helped as Neville had now hidden his face in her scarf, sobbing, unable to watch.

"Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful dark magic- no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At those words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she began looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, voicing the thoughts Elizabeth was unable to get out.

"I knew it!" she gasped. "Snape- look!"

Elizabeth watched as Ron grabbed the binoculars and his jaw dropped.

"He's doing something… jinxing the broom." Hermione's words brought Elizabeth out of her stupor so fast, it was as if the girl had slapped her around the face.

"What do we do?" Ron asked as Elizabeth nudged Neville to one side, who now transferred his sobs to Hagrid's jacket.

"Leave it to me," Hermione said, disappearing as Elizabeth snatched the binoculars from Ron's fingers.

Elizabeth searched for Snape and could see what Hermione was talking about. Snape was sitting in the middle of the faculty stands across from them. His eyes were fixed on Harry, unblinking, and he seemed to be muttering non-stop under his breath.

It was only as she continued to witness this sight, that Elizabeth began to think that maybe she wasn't getting the full picture. That maybe Ron and Hermione were seeing exactly what they wanted to see.

Elizabeth wouldn't, couldn't, deny that she often thought Snape may wish a painful death on her brother, but there was better, less public ways of going about it. He could slip him poison when they were testing potions in class, then blame him for not following the instructions properly. Or just strangle him in detention.

If there was one thing that she had come to realise in her short time at Hogwarts it was that Professor Snape was many things, stupid was not one of them. This was too public and he was being far too obvious. Something else was going on here.

She couldn't linger on that thought for too long, however, as someone knocking poor Professor Quirrell head first into the front row of faculty caught her attention. Before she could continue her search for the culprit, the stadium erupted in cheers. Elizabeth dropped the binoculars in time to see Harry clamber back onto his broom amid a gale of cheers and applause.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said, as Neville reappeared from the folds of Hagrid's giant overcoat.

Elizabeth took the first breath she had taken in far too long and for a moment felt slightly light-headed, only to feel the steadying hand of Hagrid at her back. She sent him a grateful smile, which he reciprocated, and turned back to the game.

The cheers in the stadium became raucous one more and Elizabeth saw Harry speeding towards the ground.

All of a sudden, he clamped his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick- he hit the pitch on all fours (Elizabeth began to wonder whether Harry's Quidditch career was going to be detrimental to her health,) – he coughed- and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" she heard Harry yell and the crowd, Elizabeth included, went mad. She jumped on Ron, who swung her around, almost knocking the head of poor Neville, who had now sat back down entirely baffled as to what was going on.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the game ended in complete and utter confusion.

"He didn't catch it! He nearly swallowed it!" Flint was still howling, twenty minutes later, but it made no difference. Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the result. Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty and Cedric had won his bet.

Elizabeth, of course, was aware of none of this as, having met Harry and promptly punched him in the arm ("that's for scaring the life out of me.") And then enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug ("and this is for being OK.") All four were gathered around the table in Hagrid's hut being poured a strong cup of tea and discussing the events of the game.

"It was Snape!" Elizabeth could only just keep herself from rolling her eyes. "He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," replied Elizabeth and Hagrid in unison, each sending the other a small smile.

Elizabeth knew what she had seen, and she knew it wasn't as it seemed. She had even for a moment entertained the notion that Snape was muttering some kind of counter-curse, trying to save Harry, but maybe that was pushing it. The others, minus Hagrid, clearly didn't agree.

"Why would Snape do somethin' like that?" Hagrid questioned.

"Do you really think Snape is stupid enough to try and kill Harry in front of the whole school?" Elizabeth continued, she had to at least try and get them to see sense. Although slowly but surely she was beginning to lose hope.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "Why did he try to get passed that three-headed dog on Halloween?"

Hagrid, who had returned to the fireplace for more tea, dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" He said.

"Fluffy?" all four of the other occupants of the room questioned.

"That… thing, has a name?" Ron's face was somewhere between terrified and disgusted.

"Course he does. He's mine. Bought him off a Greek chappie I met down the pub, las' year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the…"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"No! Don't ask me anymore." Hagrid replied gruffly. "That's top secret that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it." Harry pressed on.

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid.

Elizabeth gave up, the trio were far too stubborn to listen to what her and Hagrid were trying to say. She had come to the realisation that this conversation was going to go in circles. The trio were going to accuse Snape of some dastardly deed and Hagrid was going to say rubbish…a lot. It was only as she had completely zoned out, wondering if her tea leaves could predict whether the trio were going to pull their heads out of the sand for long enough to consider that they could be wrong, that Hagrid finally had enough.

"I'm telling' you, yer wrong!" He said, hotly. "I ain't the foggiest why 'Arry's broom started actin' funny, but Lil' Lizzy is right. Snape ain't gonna harm a student." He paused for a moment, clearly considering his next statement carefully.

It was only as Ron looked as though he had come up with another argument to disagree, that Hagrid jumped in.

"Now, listen to me, all of ya- yer messin' in things that ain't to be meddled in. It's dangerous. You forget that dog and you forget what it's guardin'. That's strictly between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

Elizabeth's eyes went wide and she let out a, thankfully inaudible, gasp. She was glad the others seemed to lost in thought to notice.

She knew that name.

She knew that name all too well.

You didn't get to being as big a potions geek as she was and not know the name Nicholas Flamel.

But it didn't make sense. Why would Dumbledore be keeping it here, of all places. What in Merlin's name was going on?

She was so deep in thought that before she knew it, they were being ushered out of Hagrid's and back up to the castle. All she could hear as they left was Hagrid's repeated mantra, "I should not have said that."

Elizabeth loved the giant dearly, but knowing the stubborn streak of the three people in front of her, she could only think one thing.

'Hagrid, you really shouldn't have said that."


End file.
